


Sunset Love (Slaxl)

by themoneyhoney



Category: Guns N' Roses, Slaxl - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Romance, BoyxBoy, Exploring own sexuality, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Romance, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Sunset Strip, Young Love, gaylove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24753862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoneyhoney/pseuds/themoneyhoney
Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Guns N' Roses have finally found a rehearsal space of their own. All five members practically live in the garage off Sunset and Gardner - but only Axl and Slash are permanent residents.As the band works all hours to piece together the music that they dream will make them famous, the two guys - a former hick from Indiana and an LA city boy - spend more and more time in each other's company. But it's far from plain sailing, as long-held beliefs clash with strong feelings...
Relationships: Axl Rose/Slash | Saul Hudson, Slaxl - Relationship
Comments: 118
Kudos: 94





	1. Roomies

**Author's Note:**

> *Disclaimer and warning*
> 
> This story is a work of fan fiction, written by me, the author, as a creative, fictional work that is the product of my imagination. It is intended for the purposes of entertainment and enjoyment.
> 
> The story is not intended or suitable for persons aged under 18, which is why the story is rated 'Mature'.
> 
> Many chapters contains scenes of strictly consensual romantic sex, heterosexual and homosexual, within the context of and in order to further the wider romantic narrative between the two main characters, who are adults. It is not intended to be pornography and should not be read as such.
> 
> While this work is inspired by real people and events, and uses the names of real people, places and historical events, it does so in the context of a creative work of fan fiction. It is not intended to be taken as fact in any way. The characters in the work who have the same names as real-life persons are not intended to represent those real-life persons in any way. None of the real-life persons whose names are used in this story have any connection whatsoever to me or my work.
> 
> There are also passing references to drug and alcohol abuse.

"Fuck! This stuff weighs a fucking ton," grunted Duff, shoving the bass drum into place at the back of the room.

Steven twisted the screws on the hi-hat and gave it a little roll with his fingers. A pleased grin crossed his face. 

"That's me all set up," he said, throwing himself onto his stool and spinning his sticks in the air. Izzy scowled as he bent to plug in his Marshall amp. 

"At least this place has fucking electricity," he grumbled. He threw his guitar strap over his head and banged out a few chords. He grimaced and crouched down at the amp. "Yeah, the sound in here blows."

Duff was picking out rumbling notes on his bass, his head to one side. "Hey, this place is costing us four Benjamins a month," he replied. "Let's appreciate it, yeah?" He looked across the room as someone came in. "Speaking of which, you gonna get me your share of that, Axl, yeah?"

Axl had his head down, hands in pockets, sheets of red hair shielding his face as he kicked a lump of concrete on the floor. 

"Yeah, sure, man," he replied absent-mindedly after a moment. He looked up, sweeping his hair back out of his eyes. He surveyed the room and pursed his lips. "It sure ain't the Sunset Hyatt," he said moodily.

Duff rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms. "What's with you guys, pissin' and fussin'?" he demanded. "We had to twist the guy's arm to even let us have it. Quit bitchin' and let's do what we're here to do."

The others mumbled assent and continued setting up. Electric twangs, beats and thumps filled the space, disappearing into the bare-brick walls.

"Where's Slash?" asked someone. 

"He's here," said Slash, who had just dashed in the metal door. He stomped across to the other side of the room from Izzy and set down his guitar case and amp. "What'd I miss?" 

He looked around at the other four. "Hey, Axl, you still got no PA?"

Axl was mooching in a corner, hands still in his pockets, whistling scraps of tunes. "Fuck you," he shot back, "You know I don't."

"Right, so, how we gonna hear you?"

"Guess you'll have to stand right up next to me if you wanna hear me," said Axl in his smooth, deep voice, tilting his chin at Slash. The others watched warily. Axl may have been small and skinny, but they knew his temper, and his fists.

Slash said nothing. Guitar on, he strummed out the opening chords of the new song they were working on. Like the others, he grimaced at the awful acoustics in the room, then grinned. 

He was playing it cool, as always, but Slash was psyched that they finally had a place of their own to rehearse, day and night, whenever they wanted. This was going to take the band to the next level, he thought. The level where they could get a whole set down and really start pushing to play the clubs on Sunset, and beyond. He already had an idea in his head for their band logo. Two guns, their handles intertwined with two thorny roses. 

"We ready?" came Axl's voice, cutting through his thoughts. Duff gave the nod to Steven, who clapped his sticks together, and they were off.

***

They played until they were too hungry and tired to go on.

"I'm outta here," called Duff, swinging off his guitar. "I promised Mandy I'd take her to the Rainbow tonight. Who's coming?"

Steven was already up from his drum kit and at Duff's side. Izzy mumbled about having to go see someone and was gone. Duff looked from Axl to Slash, then laughed.

"Right. You guys _live_ here." He was grinning madly. "So this is like, your first night in your new home? Like a house-warming?"

"Fuck off," muttered Slash through a cloud of smoke and turned towards his amp. Axl said nothing, just lit his own cigarette and blew out a long lungful, staring at the wall. For a moment Duff thought he caught something of what Axl was thinking. Duff knew he sometimes slept rough around West Hollywood: stairwells, doorways. This place was a roof over his head. 

"Just fuckin' with ya," said Duff easily. "See you guys tomorrow sometime." 

He and Steven stepped out into the alley and left into Gardner Street, the thrill of their new rehearsal space putting a spring in their step as they headed towards Sunset Boulevard.

There was silence in the room for a while as Slash and Axl smoked, perching on amps, looking around at the place that was newly theirs: four bare cinder block walls and a sheet metal roof. It was storage space, advertised as such; they hadn't exactly made it clear to the owner that they were a rock band intending to rehearse. The guy had made a big deal out of the fact that there were electricity sockets and a shared toilet in the lot. 

The floor was bare concrete. The drum kit and guitars looked odd, standing around unused. It was 10 P.M. on an August evening, the sun had gone down and the day's heat was seeping out of the walls. The reality of their situation was beginning to dawn. 

"Guess we shoulda got ... mattresses or something," said Axl, looking around.

Slash chuckled, nodding. "Yeahhh," he drawled. He reached over to a paper bag by the wall and pulled out a familiar brown bottle. 

"'Least we got our friend Jack to keep us company." 

Axl looked up at Slash and smiled slowly. 

Slash busied himself popping the lid, taking a swig and handing it over. He felt suddenly weird - was he embarrassed, shy? It was true that he and Axl hadn't spent a lot of time together since Axl moved out of Slash's mom's house a while back. But that smile of Axl's - it looked like it had been more than just a casual facial expression. Or was he imagining things? 

Slash knocked back more of the Jack, passing it back and forth to Axl. It did its magic, as usual - with every swig, the awkwardness he felt faded. He knew that many people drank to feel different, to feel less like themselves. He did it to feel less awkward, more sociable - more like himself.

Fortunately, Axl was a good talker. It never took much to set him off on one of his long, rambling musings about life, music, art, whatever he was digging at the moment. Slash provided nods and comments here and there as that voice filled the small space. 

What a voice, he thought. Many singers he knew had speaking voices that didn't resemble their singing at all. Axl was different. When he spoke, the tones were just as smooth and deep as when he sang. Thoughts of thick caramel and warm, melting chocolate came into Slash's mind. He found himself trying not to stare too long at Axl's face, especially his lips as they moved. He noted their feminine curves and their natural pout. 

Suddenly Slash realised what he was thinking and was annoyed with himself. What was he, a fucking fag? He took another gulp. It must be the whisky. He shivered.

"Yeah, it's getting fucking cold, man," said Axl. He cast around the room and squinted into a corner where Duff had propped his bass. "Hey - what we got here," said Axl, jumping to his feet and picking something up from the floor. He held it up. It was Duff's voluminous red and black leather trench coat. He had brought it from Seattle and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Axl spread the coat down on the floor by the wall and lay down. He closed his eyes and appeared to be going to sleep. 

Slash seized up with awkwardness again. He drained the last drop from the bottle.

"Sure as hell beats the fucking Tower Video stairwell," said Axl with closed eyes. 

Slash said nothing.

"You going to sleep or what?" said Axl. 

Slash got up and flicked off the light. He moved warily in the dark towards where Axl lay. He crouched down and clumsily stretched himself out on the leather coat, leaving as much space as possible between himself and Axl. 

"Night, fucker," came Axl's voice, sounding half-asleep already.

"Fuck you," fired back Slash, turning onto his side, away from the other man. 

It might have been better than a stairwell but it was still fucking uncomfortable. Slash dozed fitfully, turning to one side then the other against the concrete, his drunken mind filled with disturbing half-dreams. At one point, God knows what time, he jerked awake as he felt something heavy on his chest. He gradually realised it was Axl's arm. 

The other man appeared to be sleeping deeply, his steady breathing coming through his nose. 

Slash froze. He clenched his teeth in anger. We fucking agreed this wouldn't happen again, he thought. 


	2. Four walls

Slash lay there, staring up into the dark, feeling the weight of his friend's arm. Why was he not flinging it off? He felt its warmth seep into his skin. It was fucking cold in here now. Despite himself, he inched closer to the other man's body, seeking heat. 

He was close enough now to feel Axl's breath through the t-shirt fabric on his shoulder. He remembered from when they first shared a bedroom last year, in Slash's mom's house, being surprised that a jumpy, talkative guy like Axl slept so soundly. His breath came slow and regular, in and out, soothing Slash's anxious mind. The pressure on his hip from the hard floor made him turn his aching body to the other side to seek relief. 

Now Axl's breath was on his face. Slash could feel the body heat between them. What was he doing? Axl was a guy, remember? He, Slash, was a red-blooded male, who had slept with more girls than he could ever count, who liked nothing better than a pair of big tits and a wet pussy, who only last night had had some chick's legs wrapped around him up against the wall in the Rainbow car park...

Soft lips brushing against his. Sweet, tasting faintly of whisky. 

What the fuck?

He found himself responding, pushing his lips against the other man's, allowing his lips to be gently prised open, feeling wet, persistent tongue exploring his mouth, gliding over his teeth, his gums, probing farther and farther til they were locked in a full-on, deep kiss that made his head swim more than any alcohol, any drug had ever done, and all he could be sure of was that he didn't want it to end. 

He reached out and pulled the nape of Axl's neck towards him, feeling the soft baby hair at the hairline, pulling those beautiful, pillowy lips even harder against his own. He had forgotten how amazing this was. His body filled with delicious warmth. The image of sweet caramel came back into his mind. 

In the dark, he felt Axl's arm tighten around him. Axl's knee come up over his waist, sliding over the hump of Slash's erection through his leather pants. Their noses switched sides as the kiss went on, hands in each other's hair, sliding over each other's necks, incredulous at what was happening, drinking each other in.

They broke off, gasping. Their jagged breathing cut through the dark and silence. Slash found his forehead at the other man's shoulder, feeling the bone through the warm skin. Axl's hand moved to his jaw, leaving one last gentle kiss on his mouth. He heard the rustle of skin on leather as the other man turned over, then silence. 

After a few seconds, Axl's breath came slow and measured again. He was asleep.

Slash lay stunned, looking blindly into the dark. His head swirled crazily. Had that really just happened? There was no denying the swelling in the front of his pants, pressing almost painfully against the lace ties. 

He knew only one cure for the cacophony of thoughts and feelings. He turned over and fumbled around the on floor for the bottle.

Shit. They'd drunk all the booze. 

He felt his way along the block wall to the door and pushed it open. Milky dawn light was seeping across the sky over Guitar Center and the flat roofs of Sunset Boulevard beyond. The lot was empty. The ever present traffic hummed, at a lower volume than usual at this hour. 

He closed the door quietly - the last thing he wanted was to wake Axl now. He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed up the alley in the direction of the nearest 24-hour liquor store. 


	3. Ain't nobody here but us

"Slash, what's up, man?"

Duff had broken off mid-phrase, frowning. Izzy and Steven let the drums and guitar peter out. Slash lifted his head, cigarette smouldering among his curls.

"What?"

"You've been on another planet since we started. You OK?"

Slash took a deep drag, stalling.

"Sure," he said, extracting the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out a long trail of smoke at the ceiling. "Never better."

The others looked at him suspiciously. He'd been missing notes, coming in late, fluffing riffs. This was Slash, Mr Guitar God. No matter how much he'd drunk or smoked the night before, no matter how little sleep he'd got, when it came to guitar and the band, he always delivered the goods. Until today.

"Right. From the top," said Duff eventually. He locked eyes with Steven, counted them in and they were off again.

Slash berated himself as he tried to concentrate on his playing. Fuck, the guys were actually noticing. He had to get it together or they'd start coming to conclusions. 

He'd stayed out as long as he could that morning, wandering penniless around Sunset and Hollywood as the sun came up, bumming cigarettes from other street rat acquaintances he bumped into. As the booze wore off, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with Axl, and his mood had plummeted. 

What the fuck had he been thinking, letting that happen again? They had kissed before, when Axl lived in Slash's house, in his basement room. But they had agreed that time: they weren't fags. The band was all about maleness - _straight_ maleness. Jokes and banter about fags and queers were part of their daily routine. Insinuating that one of the others was a homo was always met with instant aggression or a counter-accusation. Where did what had happened the night before fit into that?

Thank God for his hair, tumbled all over his face. It let him avoid meeting Axl's eye. Not that that seemed likely - the singer had his back to Slash all rehearsal. Slash wondered whether Axl even remembered. Maybe it had been all the Jack? Had Axl even been awake?

Anger seethed inside him. He had never agonised like this over a chick, even proper girlfriends. 

He clenched his jaw as he played. A headache was banging in his forehead. Axl was in his line of sight now, doing that new snake dance thing he'd seen some other singer do. It looked ridiculous, Slash told himself. Turning his heels out and swaying his hips. It made his ass ripple under his jeans like a goddamn woman's. Slash realised his eyes were lingering on that ass. He closed his eyes and shook his head as if to shake out the thoughts. 

He felt a physical sense of relief when Izzy finally called, "I gotta slip out. Slash, coming?" 

Slash knew what that meant. Izzy had a number of contacts in the area who supplied him with chemical sustenance of various kinds. Lately it had been lumps of brown, sticky, sweet heroin, which Izzy showed him how to inject. Slash's energy lifted immediately at the prospect. He leaned his guitar against the wall and followed Izzy out the door, keeping his eyes down.

***

Sweet, delicious, soft, floating, spinning, bliss ...

Slash's eyes opened a little and he realised he'd nodded out, his head propped against the cinder block wall. He pulled open his eyelids a bit more. All five of them were here in the studio, sprawled around the floor in various states of highness. There were girls there too, and a few guys he half-recognised as members of the band who practised in the unit next door. One of them was lying on top of a girl, humping her, her feet clenched against his white ass as it pumped. The door was open and Slash heard the sounds of more partying coming from the lot outside.

He jerked awake again. More hours must have passed. He could just about make out a weak light through the gap in the door, casting everything in the studio shades of grey. People were starting to stagger to their feet, stumbling out the door in ones and twos, calling goodbye. 

"Duff took his coat back, the bastard." The voice was smooth, low, restrained.

Slash tried to think of a reply but his brain was too wasted. Axl was kicking aside empty beer cans and bottles, clearing space on the floor. Through the slits between his eyelids, Slash watched as Axl pulled something out of a grocery bag and shrugged it on. It was the fake-snakeskin jacket some girl had given him. It came from the thrift store and looked it. Axl loved it.

"We really gotta get some bedding, man," Axl muttered as he lowered himself against the wall beside Slash and started to lie down. 

Before he knew it, Slash moved away instinctively. Axl looked at him, surprised.

Slash summoned up the balls to return the look, meeting his eyes.

"What?" asked Axl, propped on an elbow. 

Slash cursed himself internally. He really was shit with words. How could he express the fucked-up turmoil of thoughts in his head?

"What the fuck was that the other night?" he finally managed.

Axl's brow furrowed. Was he really going to say he didn't remember? Yet more rage added to the cauldron already boiling in Slash's head. 

"You fucking kissed me, man," Slash blurted, his emotion overtaking his awkwardness. 

Axl was still staring at him. 

"Not just like - y'know - a joke - it ..." He could only finish the sentence in his mind: _it felt like you meant it_. 

Axl pushed himself back up to sitting and leaned his head back against the wall. Dawn light filtering through the door highlighted his profile. That cute nose. Those perfect lips.

"Did you kiss me back?" said Axl, eyes at the ceiling.

Now it was Slash's turn to stare.

"You serious? That's what you say?"

Axl turned his head. Slash looked at his face, inches away from his own. The shadows beneath the cheekbones. The tiny one just below the bottom lip. The eyes, their green turned grey in the dim light, deep and beautiful. Slash was suddenly very conscious of his mouth. His lips tingled. He felt them moving towards the other man's. He felt Axl's hand on his jaw. It was happening.

The last time had been slow, incredulous. This time their desire was clear. Their lips and teeth clashed urgently, tongues exploring the insides of each other's mouths as they gripped the back of each other's skulls. Slash's head was swimming but not like from dope; no, these were different chemicals, ones that came from deep within his body, not outside, creating reactions that exploded in his groin and made him groan deep inside his throat. 

Axl smiled, breaking the kiss, leaning his forehead against Slash's, still gripping the back of his head.

"I guess you kissed me back this time," grinned Axl. 

Slash looked down but couldn't help smiling too, moving his fingers in the smooth silkiness of the other man's hair, the solidity of his skull.

"I don't know what's happening, man," he said, realising he was whispering. "We agreed..."

"Hey," said Axl, tilting up Slash's jaw with his fingers, making him meet his eye. Oh, that voice, that deep, sexy rumble. 

"We can... un-agree," Axl went on quietly, one corner of his mouth tilting up.

"But..." said Slash, unable to stop his hands from moving to Axl's ribcage, bare under his jacket. The skin was warm, baby soft. 

"We don't have to analyse it," said Axl, stroking the tip of his nose against Slash's. Slash could feel Axl's lips moving glancingly against his own as he spoke. "It's OK."

"I'm not... you're not..."

"Slash." The sound was so soft coming from Axl's mouth, the "shhh" at the end lingering unbelievable sexily. It made Slash's cock, already straining against the restraint of his jeans, twitch and pulsate. 

Axl pushed himself to standing and strode to the door. The light in the room disappeared as it closed. Slash heard boots on the floor, then felt Axl's body against his again. 

"Ain't nobody here but us," he whispered into Slash's mouth. 

***


	4. I can't stop myself

Getting up in the morning was never a problem for Slash. The gnawing craving for alcohol woke him every morning early, regardless of how much (or little) he'd slept the night before. 

It was around one in the afternoon and he had been up for hours. He had fled the garage as soon as he'd woken that morning, not wanting to face Axl. He had put a stop to things the night before, mumbling something about being tired and jumping up into the loft to sleep. Alone - to be fair, Axl hadn't pushed it; he had stayed on the floor. 

As soon as he was out on the street, Slash had forked over the last of his cash from his old newsstand job for a bottle of Jack, then called over to Izzy's place. Izzy's girlfriend was out, so the two spent an agreeable few hours on the sofa, putting away the whisky and talking about the band.

"Hey, that reminds me," said Izzy, putting down the empty bottle on the shaky coffee table. "The rehearsal space is a fucking disaster, man."

"Whaddya mean?" said Slash, his head lolling pleasantly against the back of the sofa. 

"You and Axl live there," replied Izzy. "Me, Duff and Stevie are gonna be there every fuckin' day - and probably a lot of nights. We gotta make it a bit more - I dunno, livable. We gotta fix up somewhere to sleep."

Through his whisky haze, Slash realised what Izzy was getting at.

"Right," he said. "A fuck space."

Izzy chuckled. 

"Correct, my friend. I think you'll agree that the rehearsal space is going to be used for that purpose? I don't think any of us is keen to get it on with someone on that fuckin' hard-ass concrete floor."

Slash felt his face get warm. He dipped his head to take a long drag on his cigarette. 

Izzy stood up and patted his pockets for his key. 

"Uhhh...where we going?" said Slash.

Ten minutes later, Slash found himself ducking his head and following Izzy through a gap in a chain-link fence around into a construction site just off Clark Street. Despite his long history of shop-lifting and general pilfering, Slash was glancing around.

Izzy snorted. "It's Saturday, dude. Construction workers aren't like us - they don't work weekends."

He was right. No-one bothered them as they selected a few lengths of plywood and wooden blocks that were stacked against a wall. Ten minutes later again, they were pulling open the door to the studio on Sunset and Gardner. 

Sunlight hit the bare walls inside, cutting through the dark. Incredibly, Axl had been still asleep in his snakeskin jacket on the concrete floor. He didn't look too happy to see them.

"What the fuck?" Axl groaned, squinting.

"It's the afternoon, asshole," said Izzy, nudging Axl in the side with his toe and, with a grunt, letting the wood he'd been carrying crash to the floor. 

Slash noticed the easy camaraderie between the old school friends. He was always more cautious when he talked to Axl. Everyone knew that Axl was a grenade, liable to explode at any moment.

"I'm here to do you a massive favour, Ax," Izzy declared. He started laying out the two-by-fours, then produced a box of nails and some tools from his pocket. "Slash and I realised this place is not very fucking hospitable to the so-called fair sex. Plus there's no space on the floor with all our gear. We're going to build a loft."

Slash spent the next few hours - alongside following Izzy's building instructions - discreetly observing Axl. He found it funny to see him doing manual labour - clearly unwillingly. Probably, Slash thought as he held pieces of wood while Izzy sawed and hammered, Axl felt it was beneath the job of a singer to labour with the rest of them. But Duff and Steven were nowhere to be seen and it was his home, so Axl had to muck in. 

It was so sexy the way Axl clenched his jaw when he was annoyed or concentrating. Through his hair, Slash observed the muscles at the angle of Axl's jaw rise and fall. And the way his full lips pursed a little at the same time. Every so often, Slash got annoyed at himself, sneaking looks like a besotted school girl. But he couldn't help himself. Plus, the rehearsal space was tiny - ten by fourteen feet - so they were working literally shoulder to shoulder. 

Try as he might, he couldn't stop sensations from last night coming back into his mind. Warm, smooth lips against his own. The sweet, coffee-like aroma of their sweat intensifying as they kissed, slowly, delicately. Breath coming fast and rough from their throats.

"I said hold it steady!" came Izzy's voice, irritated, waking Slash from his reverie.

Slash tried to concentrate. He and Axl were standing in among Steven's drums, holding over their heads the flat wooden structure they had nailed together, while Izzy hammered it to the small wood blocks he had attached to the wall. Slash glanced in Axl's direction and thought, _fuuuck_. The space had warmed up as the day wore on and Axl had discarded his jacket. He was bare-chested, ropes of muscles in his arms and abdomen on full display. 

Slash closed his eyes, willing his twitching cock to be still. He was surprised to notice that sadness was mixed in with his lust. Yes, Axl was naturally strong, but the guy was also thin. The rest of the band, including himself, had mocked the sucked-in-cheeks look Axl had in their one band photoshoot so far. Slash now realised those cheekbones were so prominent because the guy had barely enough to eat.

Izzy was standing back and rubbing his palms on his pants.

"A good day's work, gentlemen!" 

And there it was, their new loft. The living space in the studio had just increased by roughly fifty per cent. Just above head height, just enough space to hoist yourself up and roll in, perfect for their purposes. They regarded it with pride. 

Slash sucked deeply on a fresh cigarette and frowned.

"Did we, like, just spend the afternoon doing _home improvements_?" he said.

***

"Man, I love that stuff!" shouted Steven, taking a long swallow and thrusting the bottle high into the night air. 

It was around four in the morning on Palm Avenue, West Hollywood. The first shafts of daylight were beginning to tease the grey sky. The five of them were walking home from an uproarious night in Lizzy Grey's sleazy apartment with even sleazier chicks and some coke Duff had produced. They left when the coke was gone. They had pushed all the money they had between them - a few dollars - over the liquor store counter for two bottles of Night Train.

"Eighteen per cent," Axl was saying musingly, looking at the label on the bottle in his own hand. He grinned. "Bottoms up!"

"I'm on the Night Train," sang Duff, his head tilted back, his body full of coked-up energy . 

Axl took up the snatch of melody and played with it, flinging his arm around Duff. The two stumbled along, singing out of sync and guffawing with laughter.

Slash trailed the rest of the group as they staggered across the junction onto Sunset. His emotions swirled, despite his attempts all evening to anaesthetise them with coke and booze. The afternoon of hard work cheek-by-jowl with Axl had been followed by an evening of being ignored. Axl literally hadn't looked at him the whole time in Lizzy's. And now to top it all off, here was he, Slash, finding himself simmering with jealousy at Axl and Duff. 

He hadn't felt this down in a while. He caught up to Steven, grabbed the bottle and took a long, numbing swallow.

At the junction to Gardner Street, he waved half-heartedly and turned left, not bothering to check if Axl was coming. He made out the door of the studio and pulled out his key chain. The studio looked its usual disastrous state, the half-light throwing into relief the trash, the empty cans and bottles. But at least there was the loft. He summoned up the strength to heave himself up and let his aching body fall onto the flat surface. He surrendered his mind to blessed oblivion.

***

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the metallic bang of the studio door, then the familiar deep voice.

"Why'd you disappear, man?"

Slash said nothing. He didn't know what to say.

He heard a grunt, followed by cursing and rustling. Axl was swinging his legs into the loft and lying down beside him. The flash of a lighter briefly illuminated Axl's face, his lips balancing a cigarette. Slash felt a flash of annoyance at the warmth that flared low in his belly at the sight.

"You not talkin' to me or what?" came Axl's voice through the darkness.

"Shut the fuck up," grunted Slash, rolling over onto his side, his back to the other man.

There was silence for a moment. Then a hand on his arm. Slash rolled onto his back. He couldn't contain himself any longer.

"What the fuck is happening here, man?" burst out Slash. "Is this how it's going to be? You never speak to me or look at me all day, even in fucking rehearsals, then here at night you - you - we..." He couldn't find the words to finish.

He heard Axl blow out slowly, his breath controlled. The aroma of tobacco filled the air in the tiny space.

"I don't know either, man," came Axl's voice finally, quiet and measured. "I - I don't know. I just can't stop myself touching you."


	5. The things you don't know

Axl's words reverberated in the air around them. Had he really just said that? 

The hand on Slash's arm was stroking his skin now, slowly. Slash didn't shake it off. The hand moved to his chest, slipped under his t-shirt and to his nipples, Axl's fingertips caressing them and pulling them gently to tight little knots.

Slash's throat constricted. He exhaled slowly, trying not to reveal how turned on he was - but he heard the other man chuckle. 

"Seriously, what the fuck are we doing..." managed Slash. "We're not fucking fags..."

"Shut up," came Axl's voice, a gruff whisper now. Slash felt incredible softness on his chest as Axl drew his lips from one nipple to the other, biting with his lips over his teeth at first, then teeth only, gently, eliciting sharp gasps that Slash realised were coming from his own mouth. He couldn't help raising his hands to Axl's hair, clutching clumps of it as he tried to deal with the desperate pleasure coursing through him. He tried not to pull too hard but he felt the other man tilt back his head and moan. 

"Do that again, baby."

As soon as he heard that word, Slash felt a rush of blood to his groin and moisture prickling his eyes. Axl had called him "baby". 

Slash pulled harder on Axl's hair and relished the slow growls from deep within his throat. Axl pushed himself up on one elbow and crushed his mouth down onto Slash's. Teeth, lips and tongues frantically collided, pushing, exploring. 

Slash felt himself being pulled to one side, then Axl was straddling him. Wedged between Axl's strong thighs, he felt resistance rise in his throat. He broke off the kiss.

"I can't - " he managed, then Axl's hands were at his jaw, stroking his face. Slash felt Axl's chest on his, the warmth through their clothes. 

"Do you want to stop?" came Axl's voice into his mouth, as he touched his nose to Slash's and probed his mouth with his tongue.

Slash closed his eyes. 

"Fuuuuck... I don't know..." he moaned. It felt so good, having Axl on top of him, letting him do that... but it wasn't him, Slash... was it? He felt Axl's hands snake up under his t-shirt, stroking his ribs, then down again to his belly button...

Then the hands were gone. Slash felt Axl sit up. 

"Look, I'm not going to force you," came Axl's voice quietly in the dark. It was rough, almost hoarse. Slash could hear the will power in the words.

Slash bit his lips together and took a deep breath in through his nose.

"I - I want - this."

He didn't know exactly what he was agreeing to, but he wanted to touch Axl too much to stop.

He felt soft lips on his own again and felt Axl's smile through the kiss. 

Then nimble fingers were at his fly. Axl was picking at the knot in the laces. Passionate kisses again as they both kicked off their pants awkwardly, limbs clashing, legs entwining. 

"Commando, I like it," said Axl, pushing his fingers down into Slash's crotch.

Slash had to grin through the swirling in his head. "I've never been the type to wear underwear."

"You little fuckin' tease," growled Axl. He took Slash's cock full into his hand, palming its length, using his thumb to circle precum all over the tip. The delirium in Slash's head took over, making him shut his eyes tight and moan softly. He was helpless now, wanting this to go on and on. 

Slash felt Axl's head slide down his torso and realised what was about to happen. 

"Fuuuuck," he groaned as he felt smooth lips slide over the tip of his cock and down. Axl was sucking now, gently at first, then harder as Slash became more engorged, filling the other man's mouth and feeling his tip graze the back of Axl's throat. Axl gagged but didn't lose his grip, pumping him with his mouth, sending Slash's eyes rolling back in his head. Somewhere among the psychedelia going on in his brain, Slash realised what they were doing; somewhere in his mind, a voice questioned it, but that voice was weak, so weak, compared to the screaming need in his cock that drowned out all sense, all reason.

The throbbing in his dick was intensifying. He had his hand on the back of Axl's head, feeling it move up and down on him; it was too much, he couldn't take it any more but he didn't want the pleasure to stop. He pushed himself farther forward, feeling teeth glancing off his dick, irresistible suction pulling him in. 

Slash whimpered as fireworks went off behind his eyes. Hot liquid coursed through him and he exploded into Axl's mouth. 

He let his head fall back onto the boards, divine aftershocks running through his chest and down his arms and legs. His cheek touched off the cool wood.

"Did you... swallow?" he asked tentatively, taking the other man into his arms. He felt Axl nodding as his hot breath blew against Slash's chest. 

The things I don't know about this guy, thought Slash. He filed the thought away in his mind. He had space in his head only for what they were doing right now. 

They were lying chest to chest, arms around each other, noses rubbing gently, delicate kisses coming slowly as Slash came down from his orgasm. Axl's weight felt so good on him. He wrapped his legs around Axl's waist. 

"Soooo," Axl murmured, stroking Slash's hair. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

Slash nodded mutely. He was scared but his desire was stronger. 

"Greedy little bitch," Axl hissed in his ear.


	6. Inside

Slash felt Axl's weight lifting off his chest. His knees were pushed up and back towards his ears. Axl's hands moved feather-light down Slash's thighs to his ass. Discomfort flashed through Slash as his ass cheeks spread. He had never felt so exposed before.

"I'm spitting, OK?" came Axl's throaty whisper. Slash nodded again. A slick, wet finger pressed to his opening and he whimpered involuntarily.

"Is this OK?" said Axl, pausing.

Christ, his concern was so arousing. Slash nodded again and the finger pressed in, inside his body, farther in now, creating pressure deep in his groin and at his lower back that was so alien, so strange, but... good. Axl slid his finger out a little only to push into Slash's hole again, this time with two fingers. Slash jerked with a jolt of pain as his ass stretched inside. Axl's breath was at his ear.

"Good pain?"

"I - don't know," Slash whispered back. His fingers were clamped to Axl's back and his head rested against his sweat-slicked chest. "Try again."

The pressure came again, slowly, so slowly. Slash felt Axl's finger press into him again. It hurt and he flinched. Axl instantly pulled out.

"Sorry, I - " said Slash, flushing inwardly. He cursed himself. He had said he wanted it, now he was wasn't sure.

"Hold on," whispered Axl. Slash felt him kneel up again and push himself off. Slash frowned. Had he ruined it?

Slash heard rummaging - it sounded like fabric. Then Axl was back, his mouth over Slash's again, hot breath in his face.

"I got this earlier," came the deep voice. "Lube."

Slash slowly understood.

"I - I was hoping, you know..." said Axl, then trailed off. Slash flushed, this time with pleasure. Axl had gone to the trouble - and embarrassment - of getting lube. He really wanted to be with him.

"It's OK," whispered back Slash, his hand reaching for Axl's face. "I - want to."

More rustling, then pressure again. Axl's fingers were much smoother this time. They slipped inside him, still slowly. Slash gasped. It was - it was still weird but... good.

"Better?" said Axl, pausing.

Slash nodded, biting his lips together. He felt Axl's fingers push farther inside him, then curl. The most intense sensation he had ever experienced shot through his body. He gasped and jerked his head up.

"You like that, baby?"

Axl's voice was deeper than ever, arousal reverberating in every syllable. Slash could barely nod.

"I'm going to push in now, OK?"

Slash nodded again. He felt a release of pressure as Axl withdrew his fingers, then stroke more lube around and inside his entrance. Axl moved his hands and supported himself on them, his hair hanging into Slash's face.

Slash felt intense pressure at his hole as Axl pushed into him again but this was different, so different, in such a fucking good way. A whole new sensation invaded him and Slash braced himself with his elbows, pulling his knees up more and raising his hips to meet Axl's, which were grinding against his crotch now, plunging deeper into him. A little pain again but Slash thrust himself forward some more, chasing the incredible pleasure from a few moments before. Axl moaned in delight at Slash's response and thrust forward again and again. He felt Axl's cock pulsate inside him. He pressed his face into Axl's, the other man's hot breath in his mouth, their foreheads together, and he thought he would die of intimacy.

Axl's body began to shudder and Slash realised Axl was losing control, that his hips were pushing on their own now. The shuddering grew faster and the thrusting harder. Finally, Axl slammed into him, their skin melded together, hot, wet bursts shooting deep inside him as Axl collapsed on top of him, whispering in his ear in an otherworldly voice, "Slash, oh fuck, oh Slash, Slash..."

Hands, hair, mouths, lips, legs, skin, sweat...

Slash let his whole body fall back, Axl on top of him, and knew he never wanted to let this feeling go. 


	7. Not a glance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It's been a while... the weather is shit today and I'm grumpy!! Thanks for coming back -- or coming for the first time. I try to make the parts work on their own as well as being part of a longer story. Hope you like this one. xx

The chick with the low-cut top standing at the side of the dance floor had been looking up at him since the start of their set. It was quite clear from her expression what was on her mind. In between his riffs and solos, Slash was keeping an eye on her from behind his hair on stage. 

It was 9 P.M. on a Tuesday night and the Whisky was almost empty. The night hadn't even really started yet. But this was what you did when you were an unknown band - you started at the bottom of the bill.

To give him his due, Axl wasn't letting the sparse audience affect his performance. He was giving it his all, as he always did: shirt thrown aside, sweat gleaming in the stage lights, the muscles in his back tightening and relaxing along with his voice. 

Slash had given up pretending to himself that he wasn't watching Axl every chance he got to do so unobserved. On stage - behind his guitar and his hair, the other guys absorbed in their playing - was the perfect place. That writhing, snake-like body, ink standing out against the whiteness of the skin, the black leather pants slung low around the hips, barely clinging on...

Axl rang out the closing notes of their new song, 'Don't Cry', and let them reverberate around the room. A few hesitant hand claps echoed around the walls and their set was over. 

The girl was still there. They made eye contact again and Slash felt a rush to his groin. Relief flowed through him. He was still straight. Whatever was going on with Axl didn't make him a fag. He cocked his head towards the doors to the bathrooms beside the stage and the girl gave a brief nod. 

***

He buried his face in the girl's breasts and pulled her hips closer to his. She anchored her arms behind his neck and wrapped both her legs around his waist. The flimsy partitions in the Whisky toilets rattled as he began banging himself into her, pushing her against the wall to keep her up. It was skeezy but that was OK; he was into it and she certainly was too, thrusting her pelvis energetically against him and digging her nails into the skin on his back. He dragged his lips across her chest from one tit to the other, relishing the yielding softness, so different from...

He pulled his head up suddenly.

"What the fuck?" the girl gasped, her face in his shoulder. "Don't stop!"

Had he stopped? He resumed his frantic banging into her but was having trouble focusing on the task at hand. He'd been comparing this to ... how he felt doing the same thing with Axl. Jesus. 

He squeezed his eyes tight and thank fucking Christ, he was about to come now... he exploded into her, clutching her buttocks tight to keep her in position. He kept thrusting til he was spent.

"Thanks, honey," he muttered, panting, as he let her down and hoisted his pants up. The girl grabbed some tissue and cleaned inside her thighs, looking none too happy. 

"Yeah, really fucking great," she said, glaring. "What was that - like, twenty seconds?"

"Fuck you," he retorted, though he flushed inwardly. He knew he'd been selfish; he'd taken what he wanted from her and he just wanted to get out of there.

"Fuck YOU, asshole," she shouted and slammed the stall door behind her.

***

The next band was slamming out their first chords as he slunk out of the bathroom. More people were wandering in; cigarette smoke billowed, people's hands hung out over the balcony upstairs, some girls clustered against the front of the stage. Slash made out Duff, Izzy and Axl leaning against the bar at the other side of the room with their buddies West and Del, knocking back bottles of beer. 

"Ah, here's the dirty dog," said Duff, grinning, holding out an arm as Slash approached. "Taking care of business, eh?" 

They had all seen him disappear into the bathroom after the girl. The group chuckled indulgently, admiringly even. 

Slash shrugged and flicked his eyes discreetly to Axl, as had become his habit. Axl was standing a little apart from the group, studying the band on stage intently. Slash mouthed 'Jack and coke' to the barman and checked back again. Yep, Axl was still acting like he wasn't there. 

Slash sucked down his drink hungrily and signalled to the barman for another. He nodded along as Steven enthused to him about something, but he wasn't listening. Minutes passed and Axl's back remained firmly towards him. 

Slash frowned in confusion. Sure, Axl was moody, and unexplained silences were a thing with him. This was one of those episodes, right? It couldn't be ... the girl, could it? Getting as much pussy as possible was one of their core aims as a band. Surely there was no way Axl was ... jealous?

At some point later, after several more drinks, Izzy flung his arm around Axl's shoulders, dragged him back to the group and forced him to clink bottles. 

"Our position at the bottom of the bill continues uncontested!" exclaimed Izzy, lifting his drink into the air mock-heroically. 

"How many was that tonight, four people?" mused Duff. "Two of them were our friends who we bribed with free beer -" he gestured to Del and West, who raised their drinks graciously - "One was that strung-out guy by the door who clearly hadn't a fucking clue where he was, and the other was that girl who just came to fuck Slash."

Axl looked away sharply, examining the ceiling. Everyone else was too drunk to notice, or care. But Slash knew now. It _was_ the fucking girl.

"Better than our first gig," said Steve. "The Troubadour, before Seattle? Two people - the bar manager and that random guy who said he thought we were gonna be some other band?"

"Your fan base is growing, then," declared Del. "I call that progress." More cheering and clinking bottles.

Slash wanted to leave, wanted to get Axl on his own and demand to know what the fuck was going on, but the guys were in roaring form and the drinks were coming thick and fast. It was easier to just stay. 

The headlining band came on, the club had filled to capacity, bodies packed in, the music and noise deafening - and their collective cash had dried up.

"Back to the Sunset and Gardner Hotel and Villas!" roared Steve, throwing his arm around Slash's neck. Slash had loosened up a bit. The knots in his shoulders were relaxing and he could talk more. Thank fuck for that. He didn't care as much about things with plenty of alcohol on board. He headed for the door with the rest of them, not casting a glance at Axl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It took a while to get this part right. I really want to hear what you think of it - it's harder to write tension than the lovey-dovey stuff :) 
> 
> ps. If you like this chapter, please leave kudos and comments, and hit the Subscribe button to get notified as soon as new chapters come out :). xx


	8. The hour before dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slash decides to do something to get clarity on his situation with Axl but things go differently than he planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to get kudos on my story! It's such a buzz for a writer to get positive feedback. 
> 
> This part came together pretty quickly. I'm getting more and more fond of these characters. Hope you like it! x

Slash sucked deeply on the reefer someone had passed him, leaned back his head and blew up a long, slow stream of aromatic smoke at the sky. 

It was sometime in the darkest part of the night, before dawn. His head swirled as he surveyed the blackness above. The noise in the lot outside their rehearsal space off Sunset and Gardner - music from a ghetto blaster, voices, laughter, bottles breaking, cans crunching, grunts from people fucking - was all around him, but he felt remote from it, disconnected.

A dull pain rumbled somewhere in his gut. He couldn't identify it ... He closed his eyes. Oh yes. He remembered. He had fucked some chick and Axl was giving him the silent treatment. In fact, he hadn't seen him since they left the Whisky.

Rage swelled in Slash's throat. He had known this ... thing... between him and Axl was a bad idea. He shook his head. He had been drunk, high, lonely, let his guard down... whatever. And now look where they were: Axl breaking his balls, acting like a fucking teenage girl. 

He shoved the reefer into someone's hand and pushed his way through the crowd in the lot, looking around him. He was going to have it out with that motherfucker once and for all.

He searched all over the lot and the alley. No sign. Slash elbowed his way past some people and pushed through the half-open door to their rehearsal space. He heard a female voice moaning and looked up to the loft. In the half-light cast by a lamp on the floor, he made out Axl, his face buried in some girl's breasts, his ass humping energetically between her thighs. 

Slash stood, frozen, for a second. Axl must have heard him come in because he lifted his head. When he saw it was Slash, an expression crossed his face... what was it? Through the haze in his head, Slash realised it was... vengeful.

Slash stumbled out the door. Appalled, he felt tears pricking behind his eyeballs. What the fuck? He wasn't seriously upset? 

He went and stood at end of the alley where it opened into Gardner Street, the party roaring behind him. He pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket, lit up with shaking hands, inhaled and closed his eyes. 

Footsteps on the ground behind him. A rough hand at his shoulder, pulling him around.

They stood facing each other. Slash sucked coolly on his cigarette. Its brief glow highlighted Axl's face, his lips pressed together in a snarl. No fucking way am I saying anything, thought Slash. Let's see if the amazing lyricist has the balls to talk first.

Slash couldn't help smirking when Axl opened his mouth.

"Your little performance in the Whisky didn't mean shit to me, asshole."

Slash widened his eyes. 

"You didn't like my playing?"

Axl's eyes narrowed and Slash saw the muscles in his jaw tighten.

"Funny. Making eyes at that chick all night. Making sure everyone saw you going into the restrooms with her. Acting like the big fucking stud coming back out." 

Axl shoved his hands into the back pockets of his leather trousers. He was clearly trying hard to be cool but his chest was heaving.

Slash frowned.

"Are you kidding, man? That chick gave me the eye first, not the other way around. And I don't give a fuck who did or didn't see." 

Slash exhaled his last drag and ground the cigarette under his toe. He steeled himself. He was going to say it.

"What the fuck do you care, anyway? We fuck chicks, that's what we do, what we've always done. I did it tonight, you did it tonight. Who gives a fuck?"

Axl was looking at his own toes now. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and turned away. 

Slash turned away too and looked down Gardner at the intersection with Sunset Boulevard. A solitary car sped through, going west, and disappeared into the night. The low, ever-present, night-time hum resumed. There were hours to go yet before the day's din began. 

His head ached. A familiar emptiness was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. What was he doing with his life?

"Slash." 

That voice. That deep rumble. It made his goofy nickname sound like poetry.

"I -". 

An exhale, almost like a gasp. Slash looked around. Axl's back was still turned, he was still looking at the ground. Was he actually stuck for words?

"What?" snapped Slash, a harsh tone to his voice. He wasn't going to make it easy.

Another exasperated breath.

"I - I didn't like it." Another pause before Axl continued. "You and the chick in the Whisky. It - it made me pretty fucking pissed. Okay? You happy now?"

Slash felt warmth seep through his belly. Axl was jealous and... Slash realised he liked it.

Axl's arm was cold when Slash reached out and pulled him around as Axl had done to him minutes before. He folded the other man into his arms.

"Jesus fucking Christ," hissed Axl. Slash felt himself being pushed roughly up against the wall around the corner from the alley opening. 

"D'you want someone to see us?" Axl demanded, his face close to Slash's.

For a split second he thought Axl was about to beat the shit out of him. Then he felt the other man enveloping him in his arms and burying his face in Slash's neck. 

Slash slowly circled his arms around Axl's sinewy torso and stroked the back of Axl's head, equal mixtures of relief and arousal flooding through him.

"I'm fucking pissed at you, too," he said softly into Axl's hair.

He felt Axl's ribcage contort with a chuckle. 

"That girl there?" Axl's voice came muffled against the fabric on Slash's shoulder. "I totally did that to get back at you, man."

Slash held his friend tight, drinking in his scent, a sweet blend of sex, sweat, smoke, whisky, and something else, something undefinable that was just pure Axl. His head was swimming again, but not from weed this time. Axl had shown vulnerability. 

Slash felt Axl lift his head and slowly, cautiously, touch the tip of his nose to Slash's. That cute, adorable nose. Slash gently kissed it, the soft skin around it, then moved his lips down. Their mouths met hesitantly, almost carefully, as if they were mindful not to hurt each other again. The kiss deepened slowly as they held each other even more tightly, Axl's pillowy lips so incredibly soft and yielding, Slash drinking in the taste of him. Their tongues found each other and intertwined, harder now, searching inside each other's mouths more urgently, hands grasping in each other's hair. 

Axl pulled his mouth away, his breath coming hot and fast.

"I want you, Slash," he whispered, pushing his forehead against Slash's, eyes closed.

"I want you too," said Slash.

Without another word, they made for their door in the alley, heads down, not looking at anyone. A quick glance inside showed it was empty. Axl pulled the door shut after him and fumbled for his keychain in the dim lamplight. Slash heard the grind of the lock in the metal door.

Their bodies slammed together, hands everywhere, pushing off clothes, pulling at belt buckles. Slash yanked off Axl's pants, followed by his own. He had never felt such want; he wanted all of Axl, every part of him, now. Their mouths sucked at each other greedily, teeth pierced delicate lips, the taste of blood tinged Slash's tongue and it was good, so good. 

"Loft," panted Axl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I've always sucked at and found really difficult is chapter titles. This part was no exception. I usually end up trawling through the text, desperately trying to find something that gives me an idea. If you've any suggestions on the part titles for this story, let me know in the comments!! 
> 
> Thanks again for reading (especially if you're following chapter by chapter!!). Hope to see you again soon xxX
> 
> PS> If you liked this part, hit Kudos or if you've already done that, leave me a message XX


	9. Do you want me to?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the end of the previous chapter indicated, the boys end up in the loft, where things get very steamy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! It's been a while. Lots of stuff going on IRL. I hope wherever you are that you're managing to stay safe and well. 
> 
> I'm finding at the moment that escaping into other worlds is more important than ever for my mental health. For me, escape is in books and stories, including this one. 
> 
> I really want things to work out for these characters. I'm trying to let them show me where they need to go. 
> 
> Hope you like this latest part. xx

Slash watched Axl swing himself nimbly up into the loft. In the shadows cast by the lamplight, Axl's hand grabbed Slash's and pulled him up. They rolled over the wood, clothes discarded. Axl's naked body felt so good against his. The skin was smooth and warm. Strong arms and legs encircled him and pulled him underneath.

"Fuuuck," Slash heard himself groan at the pleasure coursing through his veins. Axl's body was surprisingly heavy on top of him. Slash squeezed his eyes shut at the delicious sensation of being pinned down. Axl was grinding his crotch into Slash's, rubbing their cocks together, precum coating both of their shafts and making them slide against each other. 

Slash reached down a hand and took Axl's full length into his palm, sliding his hand up and down against its smooth solidity. My god, he is fucking huge, thought Slash. He couldn't stop a grin stealing over his face, breaking their passionate kissing.

"Something funny?" said Axl, lifting up his head to scrutinise Slash's face, sweaty strands of his hair tickling Slash's nose. Slash's heart melted a little at the vulnerable expression on the other man's face. Could Axl possibly think something was wrong with himself? 

"Only how fucking blown away I am by your amazing cock," said Slash, brushing back a handful of hair behind Axl's ear and flushing inwardly at his own directness. He wasn't one for dirty talk ... or talk at all for that matter... but Axl was making him open parts of himself he hadn't even been aware of.

Axl smiled shyly and ducked his head, which sent another rush of blood to Slash's dick. For the second time that night, Slash sensed that Axl was struggling for words. He marvelled at being granted access to this hidden version of a person he thought he knew. 

Slash's knees were being pushed up and back towards his shoulders now, Axl's hands strong and sure. Slash waited in delicious anticipation and then... fingers were pushed into his mouth.

"Suck," commanded Axl.

Slash did as he was told, winding his tongue around the fingers, coating them with saliva. Then the fingers were removed from his mouth and ...yessss.... he felt them at his ass, stroking ever so gently around his entrance, then more firmly, teasing, tantalising... 

Slash squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure he longed for started building up around his hole, Axl's fingers circling closer to the centre. 

"Fuuuck... just push into me already," moaned Slash. He realised he was begging but he couldn't help it; his need was so great, he wanted Axl inside him more than anything.

"You want me to finger-fuck you?" murmered Axl, a hint of a mockery in his low voice. Slash couldn't believe he was being teased.

"Yes, you bastard."

"That's not how you speak to your daddy," whispered Axl in Slash's ear, his fingers still slowly circling. 

Slash couldn't believe how much that word aroused him. He clamped his eyes shut again. He knew he would say literally anything to get what he craved.

"Please, daddy, will you fuck me?" panted Slash, surrendering all remaining notions of dignity.

Axl chuckled triumphantly. He plunged his fingers fast and deep into Slash. Slash winced and gasped in pain.

Axl pulled out instantly. "Fuck! I'm sorry!"

Slash waited for the pain to dissipate. He took the other man's hand, nuzzled their noses together and kissed Axl's mouth lightly, reassuringly. 

"It's okay, baby." How incredible it felt to call Axl that. "Do it again, just slowly." 

Slash took Axl's fingers into his mouth and coated them with more spit till they were dripping. After a final searching look into Slash's face to make sure he was okay, Axl turned his attention down again. 

Slash felt pressure, slow and gentle this time, going deeper and deeper into his ass. He groaned and breathed slowly in and out in an effort to stay relaxed. It was working; it felt better this time, pleasure and pressure mingling in his lower groin, farther back, behind his cock and sending pulses into his belly and down his shaft.

"Baby..." he hissed.

Something shifted inside him... Axl was scissoring his fingers, stretching him out carefully. Slash held his breath for a second at the new sensation. It was okay, Axl was being so gentle; it was good, so good.

"Christ, you're fucking tight," breathed Axl. 

Something else was building, a new pressure ... Slash's hips jerked upwards of their own accord and his eyes rolled back in his head as lights flashed behind his eyelids. He realised Axl was curling his fingers, hitting his sweet spot deep inside. It happened again, and again, causing Slash to throw his head back, banging his skull against the boards. It hurt but he didn't care. 

A wet lick on his neck and the sexiest voice in the world rasped, "You're so fucking hot like that."

Slash barely registered the words; his legs were beginning to shudder and spread even wider to allow Axl's fingers to plunge deeper. His arms flailed out, his hands grasping for something to cling to as the divine massage continued in the deepest part of his body, faster and faster, more and more intense until at last, Slash cried out in a mixture of despair and ecstasy. His cock released stream after stream of sticky semen onto his own belly, his hips bucking, his pleasure enhanced by knowing Axl was watching him in this moment of intense vulnerability. 

Slowly, the spinning in his head eased as Slash began to come to, his chest heaving. The ceiling of the room came into view over his head and he saw Axl's beautiful face looking down at him, strands of copper hair shining in the dim light, its owner smiling with a touch of victory but mostly with a tenderness that made Slash's heart ache. 

"You look... pleased with yourself," Slash managed to croak to cover his emotion.

Axl grinned, then reached out a hand and brushed Slash's matted curls out of his face.

"You're fucking amazing," said Axl softly, as if in wonder. 

His eyes were wider and softer than Slash had ever seen them, not narrowed in defensiveness or anger as they so often were. Slash's heart lurched; his eyes moistened; his body felt another flush as discomfort, his old friend, flooded through him again. He didn't know how to deal with Axl showing emotion. All he knew was that he didn't want them to stop touching.

"Do you want me to - ?" he said, glancing into the other man's face then away again in awkwardness.

"Hey," said Axl soothingly. He reached out a hand and gently turned Slash's face back to look up at him. "Don't be shy, baby." Soft lips glancing off his own. Those full, pink lips, now turning up at the edges into a smile. 

"Yeah, I want you to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so great when people read to the end. I appreciate it so much! x
> 
> If you liked this part (or any of the others), please leave kudos ❤️ - or if you've already done that, let me know in the comments! 
> 
> And of course let me know what you think of this chapter or the story as a whole. I would love to hear from you. 
> 
> Till next time, keep well xxx


	10. Not any more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back - or if you're here for the first time - just welcome! :) 
> 
> This story is a fantastic escape from reality for me in these trying, difficult days. Hope it's having a similar effect for those of you who are following it. 
> 
> Enjoy this part xx

Slash got to his knees over Axl, his legs still trembling as his orgasm dissipated. He propped himself on his palms, looking down on the other man's face. The cheap wooden boards of their makeshift loft scraped against his skin but the blissed-out feeling pooling throughout his body killed the discomfort. 

To his surprise, Axl flipped himself over and got to his knees, too. Slash found himself looking down at Axl's bare back. 

Then all other thoughts vanished from Slash's mind as he regarded the naked ass beneath him.

Yes, he had seen it often enough, encased in shiny black leather, on stage; he had even seen it mostly bare when Axl performed in his infamous assless chaps. He had never given it much thought before - he was usually so preoccupied with his playing, not to mention drunk or high, or both. 

What had he been thinking? he asked himself. It was the curviest, tightest, most perfectly shaped ass he had ever seen.

He reached out a hand and stroked the soft, smooth buttocks, then lowered his head and pulled his lips and nose across the skin. With delight, he heard the other man's soft moans as he buried his face in the softness.

Axl turned his head to the side for a moment and said quietly, "I want to feel you inside me."

Slash's cock, already hard again, twitched at the words. He looked on in amazement as Axl arched his back so that his buttocks parted slightly, exposing his beautiful asshole. Slash moved his hips from side to side so that his cock, stiff and slick with precum, grazed off one buttock, then the other, a thread of shiny, sticky liquid connecting the tip of his cock to Axl's skin, while Axl groaned in pleasure.

Remembering his own pain moments before, Slash scooped a palmful of his own cum, still sticky on his belly, down to his cock and lubricated himself. He ran his fingers around Axl's hole and inside as well, adding spit for good measure, while Axl breathed raggedly and raised his ass higher in a silent plea.

Oh sweet fucking Christ, thought Slash as he finally pushed the gleaming, swollen tip of his cock against the opening of Axl's ass. The other man's skin was tight, yet yielding. Their moans mingled as Slash pushed oh so gently inside. 

Fuck, Axl was tight, so much tighter than pussy; Slash felt his cock being squeezed hard; it was a weird sensation, still new to him, but it was fucking amazing. He had a hand on each of Axl's buttocks now, lightly keeping them apart to allow him to plunge himself farther, deeper, as the other man responded by pushing back against him. Slash withdrew slightly, then pushed in again, and again, till he was balls deep inside, his groin pressed against that perfect ass. 

Slash felt a lump rise in his throat at the feeling that part of his body was literally inside Axl's, at how they were now as close as they could possibly be, their bodies fused. His head swam and he realised it was awe at the beauty of what they were doing, at the intimacy they were sharing. He buried his face in the warm skin between Axl's shoulder blades, glad that Axl couldn't see his face or the tears threatening in his eyes. 

Slash felt for Axl's outstretched arms against the wooden boards and grasped the backs of Axl's hands, intertwining their fingers. His plunges were coming harder and faster, unstoppable now, his cock pulsing as Axl moved with every thrust; he felt Axl's insides clench around his length; he lost all control and cried out "Axl, Axl" as he emptied himself into his friend, exploding load after load into the beautiful body.

They collapsed, Slash chest-down on Axl's back. They lay, rib cages heaving, hands still entwined, panting, sweating, spent.

After a minute, Axl shifted and Slash rolled off him. They lay side by side on their backs, arms touching, sweat mingling. They looked each other full in the face. Slash's impulse was to look away but he forced himself to maintain eye contact. Axl's gaze was steady, unflinching, the green eyes turned grey in the dim light from the lamp on the floor below.

"That was - " said Axl, then stopped.

"I know," muttered Slash.

"What is this?"

"I don't fucking know," said Slash.

Another pause. The only sounds were their breathing, slowing gradually, and the distant hum of early-morning traffic. Slash slowly remembered that there was a world outside these four walls. He pushed the thought aside. He wanted to stay here, in their spell, inside.

The corners of Slash's mouth turned up as he recalled the previous evening. It seemed like an eternity ago. Had Axl really been jealous of some random chick Slash had hooked up with in the Whisky toilets? Had he really gone looking for Axl, determined to end this thing once and for all?

"You not jealous any more?" Slash said with a sly grin.

Axl smiled back.

"Guess not," he said, and turned his eyes up to the ceiling. 

After a moment, Axl turned his face back to Slash and said, "I want to own you."

Slash didn't know what to say. There was no need. Axl leaned over, grabbed Slash's shoulders, pressed his lips to Slash's neck and began to suck, hard.

"Ow!"

Slash flinched and tried to pull back but Axl was holding him tight. After a few seconds, Axl let go and surveyed his work with a satisfied look.

"Did you just give me a hickey, motherfucker?" demanded Slash, rubbing the tender spot on his neck, not knowing whether to be pleased or outraged.

"I've marked you. That means you're mine," said Axl in such a deeply sexy voice that Slash couldn't be annoyed. His head and chest filled with what he guessed was happiness.

He leaned over and kissed Axl softly. Axl returned the kiss. They nestled into each other's arms and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure where the story will go from here, though I have lots of ideas, all different. I'll post the next part as soon as I can. Real life keeps intruding on my writing. 🙄
> 
> I really hope you like what's going on with these characters. I have fallen in love with them! They're so sweet and unsure of themselves. :) 
> 
> If you like this part, kudos would be great if you're here for the first time. If you're a returning reader, just leave a comment telling me what you thought. 
> 
> On the subject of returning readers, it's so great recognising some of the names on here, getting to know you a bit, reading your works and getting addicted to some of them!! 😄 It's a fantastic community here and I'm chuffed to be a tiny part of it 😍
> 
> I really love reading all comments, so please tell me what you think of the story or anything else that's on your mind! xx


	11. Time to play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys do a little cleaning in their studio and start a new song. Axl and Slash come to an unspoken agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading about GNR, especially their early history, leading up to the time they got signed. 
> 
> My favourite books are Slash's and Duff's autobiographies, for obvious reasons - they come from the horse's mouth, from band members themselves. I've read them both too many times to count, especially Slash's. His is more detailed and funnier. It shows he's a really witty guy, which I love about him.
> 
> Steven's book is great too and also very funny. It's harder to read as it's not as well written or edited. I love Steven though and am delighted that he seems happy and well these days.
> 
> I don't have much time for unauthorised biographies like Mick Wall's. I do read them all and take what I can from them, but a large dose of scepticism is required. At best, those kinds of books are useful for a rough overview of timelines, but I can never shake the impression that they're just re-hashing what they wrote back in the day as journalists in order to cash in, especially since the NITL tour.
> 
> In this story, I'm keen to stick to the facts as outlined in Slash's and Duff's books when it comes to where they lived and when, the extreme misbehaviour they got up to, the gigs they played, who managed them, what day jobs they had, and that kind of thing. The sex scenes between band members are *totally* the product of my imagination!! I can't stress this enough! 
> 
> OK, on with the story ;)

The metallic banging was increasing in volume and frequency. Slash woke abruptly at the noise and looked around him. Axl lay beside him on the loft, his facial expression frowning slightly even in sleep, copper hair haloed around his face. Their lamp was still on and upright on the floor below, looking bizarrely out of place amidst the carnage of beer cans, bottles, syringes, lengths of tubing and spent joints from the night before. A rectangle of light outlined the garage door. 

Duff's voice punctuated the banging.

"Hey, motherfuckers!" He sounded none too happy. "Wake the fuck up!"

Steven's voice joined in.

"Come on, love birds! We've got rehearsing to do!"

Slash felt a rush of fear. Fucking Steven! Surely he hadn't figured out what was going on between him and Axl? 

He jumped down from the loft, pulled on his leather pants and ran a hand over his face. He yanked his key chain from his pocket and after a few tries, managed to open the lock. He pulled up the roll-up door and stumbled back into the room, shielding his eyes from the assault of sunlight. 

"Ooohh mother of Christ, that's bad," came Duff's voice from the doorway. 

Steven began laughing hysterically, supporting himself with one hand on the door post.

"I've seen some shitholes in my life," he guffawed, "but this beats them all."

Slash began to lower himself to the floor against the wall but there was no clear space to sit. He was forced to stand up again. 

"Gotta cig?" he rasped, his throat sore from all the reefer the night before. 

One of the others threw Slash a packet and a light. He lit up, hands trembling. He stepped outside, blinking, and his head began to clear. The smell in the garage was a foul mix of drug and cigarette smoke, vomit, alcohol and sex. Thankfully, the scene last night had been so out of bounds, everyone had been doing... everything. It couldn't be pinned on anyone one person... or two people. He exhaled slowly.

Duff and Steven were inside, kicking through the garbage and yelling at Axl to get up. After a few minutes, snatches of drum rolls filled the air. 

"Aw, fuck, man," came Duff's voice again. "There's fucking puke on my amp."

Slash grimaced. Their place was a shithole, no doubt about it. He picked his way over to the bushes, avoiding the broken glass in the alley, and took a piss into the meagre leaves, cigarette dangling from his lips.

He flicked away the stub of his cigarette and stepped back inside. He located first one cowboy boot, then the other, and pulled them on.

"Welcome to the Sunset and Gardner Hotel and Villas," he muttered to no-one in particular. 

Slash and Steven spent the next ten minutes kicking the trash out into the alley to free up some floor space. Duff had produced a grimy cloth from somewhere and was cleaning off his amp with water from the tap in the bathroom in the lot. Slash glanced into the loft, where Axl was beginning to stir, raising his hips to pull on his jeans, swearing and squinting like a bat in the light. 

"C'mon, asshole," said Steven, slapping him on the thigh, prompting another stream of curses. "Time to play!"

"Anyone got water?" croaked Axl, swinging himself off the loft and looking around. "Guess it was a good night here, huh?"

Slash was watching him out of the corner of his eye. He saw a sudden flush come over Axl's face and knew that the night before was coming back to him. Slash felt a rush of pleasure as he saw Axl dip his head so that his hair hid his face. 

Axl pulled a half-full bottle of Coke from one of the trash piles and swigged it back. Slash kept an eye on him. It might not be just Coke in that bottle. Axl needed to be more careful of himself. He did everything with such recklessness. 

Flashes of the previous night in the loft kept coming back to him. He wasn't as hungover as usual. He hadn't been drinking all night because... he and Axl had been... And they had been open with each other for the first time ever last night. Would Axl meet his eye today? 

As if reading his mind, Axl glanced up and their eyes locked. They looked away after a second. Implicit in the look was an as-yet-unspoken agreement: this thing stays between us. 

By now, Izzy had turned up and helped to clear enough clear floor space for four people to stand. Electrified strings twanged through the afternoon air as they plugged in and tuned up. 

Izzy had something new; he plucked out an arresting sequence of notes, then switched to chords. The others nodded along in approval; Duff began adding bass notes here and there, standing right in front of Steven so they could lay down the groove together. Within minutes they had locked in a basic rhythm. Slash immediately got ideas for a low-key solo; he strummed it out quietly, working out the shape of it; this was Izzy's baby and it was the right thing to do to let him shine.

Axl was leaning in the doorway and listening intently. 

"You gotta title?" he asked Izzy in a break.

Izzy looked around a little defiantly. 

"'Think about you'," he said.

It wasn't the type of thing they usually called their songs. Slash snickered despite himself.

"That's totally gay."

He realised immediately the double meaning in what he had said and dragged furiously on his cigarette, avoiding Axl's eye. Nobody else seemed to care.

"Yeah, it is gay," said Steven. He twirled his sticks in the air. "C'mon, Izzy man, in our other songs we say stuff like "Turn around bitch I got a use for you". We got a reputation to keep up!" 

There was a general rumble of agreement.

"No, it's good."

All eyes turned to Axl. 

"If we want a record company to sign us, the demo tape's gotta show that we're versatile," went on Axl. "We need a ballad."

"This isn't a fucking ballad," put in Izzy, frowning.

"Not a ballad exactly, but... it gives us a chance to put some emotion into our lyrics," countered Axl, looking at Izzy, his voice steady. He and Izzy knew each other from childhood; they sometimes connected on a level that the others knew went far back. Slash looked down at his guitar.

"'Think about you' is good,"said Axl, with an air of putting an end to the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this part. It's a bit different in that it focuses more on the music and how the guys lived day-to-day at this point in their lives (as Izzy said, "Like rats in a box"*).
> 
> If you liked it, you know what to do ;) And remember to comment below too - I love talking to you and meeting like-minded folks on here!! Or Subscribe ... or add this to your Bookmarks... 
> 
> I love reading other people's work, I will definitely check out your stuff if you're also a writer xxx
> 
> PS. I got the idea to write something about the genesis of 'Think about you' from something I read about the producer on the recording sessions for AFD, Mike Clink. (Need to find the reference!) If I remember correctly, he got the idea to foreground Izzy's plucked guitar part in the mix. You can hear it quite clearly in the recording during the chorus and especially in the slow part at the end. It's an amazing sound. It lifts the song from being great to being epic. Mike Clink has truly earned his place in rock music history with this song and of course, the whole album. 
> 
> *Duff's book, location 1454 Kindle version.


	12. Quid pro quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slash is not happy about Axl's absence from rehearsal. He finds out that Axl has a side hustle going on that brings out his jealous side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! Jealousy in relationships is a subject that a lot of us are interested in as readers. I decided to explore it a bit more in this chapter. Enjoy!

It was almost evening and rehearsal had been going on for at least three hours. The band in the storage unit next door had packed up their instruments and gone to the Rainbow. The last few cars had left the lot. The construction workers from the site behind them were gone for the day. There had been no sign of Axl.

  
"No big deal. Without a decent PA we can never hear what he's singing anyway," Steven had said.

  
Nobody voiced any disagreement. Izzy was in full throttle with his new song, the others were excited about it too, the music was going great. Only Slash kept glancing at the garage door, willing it to open with its metallic rattle. 

  
By seven o'clock he was forced to acknowledge that Axl wasn't going to appear. The other guys were talking about finishing up, digging in their pockets, pooling their cash to see if they could afford Denny's. He felt fucking miserable. There was only one thing for it. Not for the first time in his life, he was forced to choose between drinking and eating.

  
"Count me out, I'm going to the liquor store," he said as he zipped his guitar into its case. That was another hard choice he'd had to make: food or a hard guitar case to protect his beloved Les Paul. He'd gone hungry that day, too.

  
"Come on, I got a few spare dollars," said Duff. 

  
Duff had an actual job, working the phones for some seriously shady Eastern European phone scam operation. Slash had never asked for the details. 

  
He shook his head. He hated taking money from anyone. 

  
"Nah, man," he said, shrugging on his denim jacket. "See you guys back here later." And he was out the door, pacing off down the alley before anyone could object further.

  
Sunset Boulevard came alive at this hour of the evening. The store fronts' neon lights burned against the beginnings of the dusk; people gathered in twos and threes by lamp posts and trash cans, discussing and gesticulating energetically; the keener street girls posed, smoking, on curbs; the drug dealers slunk in doorways, their fingers moving like magicians', contents invisible. Everyone was on the hustle, everyone on the make, trying to stay one step ahead of somewhere they didn't want to be.

  
A cop car cruised past, its occupants' necks craning left and right, taking in everyone and everything. Slash ducked his head despite his shades. His shop-lifter's wariness would never leave him. 

  
"How's tricks, man?" greeted the guy at the liquor store cash register, not looking up from the new 'Rolling Stone' as he rang up Slash's purchase. Slash tried to remember his name; he thought it might be Doobie. Yep, there was the ever-present joint balanced between the guy's fingers.

  
"Been better," Slash muttered, shoving his dollar bills across the cracked counter and taking the bottle.

  
Doobie sucked on his joint and nodded sagely.

  
"I feel you," he said. He glanced up and down the street through the store window, ascertained that the cops were gone, then held out the joint to Slash with a raised eyebrow.

  
Slash inhaled gratefully. Praise the Lord. His mind relaxed a little and he heard himself ask, "You seen Axl today?"

  
"That skinny red-haired friend of yours? Nah."

  
Doobie took in Slash's expression. All these wannabe rocker guys looked pissed all the time, he reflected. But this one seemed particularly miserable.

  
"He comes in, you want me to tell him you lookin' for him?"

  
Slash shook his head. The bell over the door announced his departure.

  
God bless Night Train. It was the worst gut rot money could buy, but it sure took the edge off. Slash was already halfway through the bottle as he trudged aimlessly up Sunset and passed the Seventh Veil with its 'Girls, girls, girls' neon sign, now infamous thanks to Mötley Crüe. 

  
He looked at the strip club from across the street, longingly. He'd never been inside; the bouncers were bastards, supposedly hired to protect the girls from scumbags, but whose main enjoyment was kicking the asses of underage kids who dared to try their luck at getting inside, and who could tell whether you'd got money as soon as look at you. 

  
Slash squinted behind his shades at a figure emerging from around the side of the low, squat building. The guy was wearing a police cap, shades and a snakeskin jacket. His hair was tied back but there was no mistaking those defensive, hunched-up shoulders and the general fuck-you attitude. Yep, it was Axl.

  
Slash's instinctive caution made him wait and watch. Now, a girl, clearly a worker from the club, wearing spangly high heels and a mac thrown over her shoulders, came into view just behind Axl. They were talking and smiling, looking very cosy, Slash noted with bitterness. They embraced, tongue-fucking each other elaborately on the sidewalk. Finally, the girl detached herself, flickered her fingers at Axl and disappeared back in the side door of the club.

  
Axl shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and looked up and down the street. Slash shrank back into the shadows but it was too late. He was spotted.

  
"Hey, man," yelled Axl, strolling across the street, dodging between cars and grinning like he hadn't a care in the world. Fucker must have his contacts in, fumed Slash. The last thing he wanted to do now was talk to Axl alone.

  
"Looking for me?" said Axl as he approached, still smiling, clearly in a good mood. His eyes went to the bottle in its brown paper bag in Slash's hand, then to Slash's face. He frowned. "You OK?"

  
"Fine," was all Slash could think of to say. He took a swig from the bag and trained his eyes farther up the street. Headlights were merging into each other as darkness asserted itself over Hollywood.

  
"I'm getting negative vibes from you, man," said Axl after a moment. "You gonna tell me what's up?"

  
Slash knew Axl would just walk away if he stayed silent. 

  
"Where the fuck were you today? Me and the guys had to rehearse without you."

  
"So what? You can't hear me singing. I been working out the lyrics for the new song in my head."

  
"Oh yeah? And that girl? Was she helping you work out the lyrics?" 

  
Slash heard how pathetic, how needy he sounded. Axl nodded slowly.

  
"Riiight." He took off his shades and gave Slash's face a speculative look, trying to figure out what he knew. "You saw Ruby, huh?"

  
Slash winced at knowing the girl's name. He didn't want to know about her at all. He took another gulp from the bottle.

  
"If you must know," said Axl, stepping in closer and lowering his voice, "that was a business transaction."

  
Slash chuckled humourlessly.

  
"That's what they call it in the Veil all right."

  
"Are you for real? You're jealous?" 

  
Axl actually laughed. Slash had seen his mean streak before and he cringed at seeing it now, especially since it was directed at him. He began to walk away but Axl grabbed his arm.

  
"What the fuck? People will see," snarled Slash, shaking off Axl's hand.

  
"You wanna know what business me and Ruby were doing?" demanded Axl, his voice dangerously low now, a hint of anger bubbling beneath the surface.  
Slash shrugged.

  
"I was - providing her with certain - services - in return for something we need," hissed Axl through gritted teeth. 

  
Slash looked up involuntarily. "You were providing her with services?" 

  
Axl pursed his lips.

  
"Yeah, motherfucker. Her and her friends been around the alley the past few nights, she got eyes for me, we started talking. Turns out, strippers get paid real good. She and her friend got a nice apartment up on La Brea and Fountain."

  
Slash shook his head. "Yeah, and?"

  
Axl rolled his eyes.

  
"I got something she wants, she got something we want. So we did a deal. Quid pro quo."

  
Slash was beginning to really feel like an idiot. Could Axl possibly be suggesting what it sounded like?

  
Axl looked up and down the street. He breathed out through his nose. He took a few steps away, then came back.

  
"Let me spell it out for you then, asshole," he whispered, his mouth close to Slash's face. "Yeah, I fucked her just now in the Veil staff restroom. I showed her a real good time. Tomorrow night, she and her friend fuck off out of the apartment for a night so you and I can have a place to ourselves that's not a stinking rat hole for twelve fucking hours. You got it now?"

  
Slash's head, already light from the wine and lack of food, swam. Words stuck in his throat.

  
"You serious?" he finally managed to stutter. 

  
Axl went to move closer, then caught himself and stayed back. He looked away.

  
"Yeah, baby," he said quietly. 

  
The will power Slash had been using all day to keep his feelings in check ebbed away. Tears welled in his eyes. 

  
"You dumbass," he whispered. "You didn't - you didn't have to do that. We could've just asked - " He broke off, realising the full import of what Axl had told him. Axl had literally prostituted himself so that they could be together.

  
"Jesus, don't cry," hissed Axl in alarm. "C'mon, let's go, I'm fucking starving." He gave Slash a nudge with his elbow. 

  
The two of them started walking up Sunset towards the Strip, hands in pockets, eyes hidden behind their shades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading to the end! If you liked this chapter, please leave me kudos or, if you've already done that, I love to hear what readers think in the comments. You can also let me know if there are any topics you'd like to see included in future chapters. Till next time! xx


	13. Ruby's Place, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axl and Slash make full use of a free apartment to progress their relationship...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're keeping well and safe. I've nothing much to say today except thanks for visiting! Here's the next instalment...

The band had an unspoken understanding that any member could disappear and reappear at any time without explanation. Still, Slash had been edgy before today's rehearsal, worrying whether one of the others would realise that he and Axl had been both absent from the garage on the same night. 

Of course, nobody asked anything. Maybe they hadn't even been there themselves. Slash plugged in his guitar with relief. Axl had been back at the garage, sprawled in the loft as planned when Slash and the others arrived mid-afternoon. Duff was going on about his girlfriend complaining that he spent too much time with the band; Izzy was still totally caught up in perfecting his new song; and Steven was Steven, happy as long as he had dope and his drums.

Thank god for guitar. Once Slash felt the long-hardened calluses on his fingertips touch the cold metal strings, his anxieties faded away. 'Think about you' was really coming on. He and Izzy had worked out a kick-ass riff. His solo was short but it rocked. Unlike the lyrics Axl was coming up with, he thought. They were way too soft for his liking. "You're my best friend" - come on, he thought. We're a fucking hard rock band. He wasn't saying anything - there was no point in causing an argument now - but when the time came to make a record, he would veto the song, or at least insist that the lyrics be toughened up. 

As he relaxed into his music, scenes from the night before began flashing into his mind like on a TV screen. The night after he had run into Axl outside the Seventh Veil, and all the next day, his head was all over the place, knowing what Axl had done and that they were going to have an apartment to themselves that night. He had had to scrounge some pot so that he could relax enough to rehearse. 

When the others finally dispersed around ten o'clock, Axl stepped out of the garage and walked off after the others. Slash looked at his retreating back. Axl cast a glance back over his shoulder at Slash. He got it: Axl was going ahead. 

He locked the garage door, lit up a cigarette and kicked a stone around the lot for ten minutes. Then he headed off in the direction of La Brea Avenue. 

A few times on the way, he almost turned back. Being with Axl in the tiny, dark garage was one thing; it felt hidden, secret, even from themselves. A proper apartment was another thing altogether. It would be roomy, there would be bright lights. He would feel exposed. It would be corny, like they were playing house. But he wanted... he wanted to... he couldn't complete the thought. Apart from anything else, Axl would be furious if he wimped out. He gritted his teeth and kept going.

His heart was thumping by the time the front door of the dingy, anonymous-looking building buzzed and he climbed the stairs to the top floor. The apartment door stood open. He closed it after himself and looked around. He was standing in the kitchen. It was basic, but a mansion compared to their place. 

Axl was leaning against the back of a kitchen chair, arms crossed, wearing his ripped jeans and his "Fuck dancing let's fuck" t-shirt. It was tied in a knot at the waist, revealing a gash of skin stretched tight over the hip bone.

"Hey," said Slash. He was hoarse. He cleared his throat.

"Hey," came the reply, then silence. Slash guessed with surprise that Axl might be a little on edge, too. He walked over to the refrigerator and looked inside. 

"Good old Rhonda," he said approvingly, taking out two cold cans of Bud and handing one to Axl.

"Ruby," said Axl, cracking the ring pull with a smirk.

"Whatever." Slash was annoyed that he had brought her up. He leaned back against the refrigerator door. They drank in silence for a moment. 

"Come here," said Axl.

Slash took another swig. There was still part of him that hesitated, that had to have this tussle with himself. Rock musicians don't... guitarists don't... men don't... 

Axl reached out, hooked his thumbs into Slash's belt loops, and pulled him in.

"I was very fucking distracted in rehearsal," he said softly, tilting his head slightly. The tip of his nose grazed off Slash's. "Couldn't stop thinking about tonight."

Slash met the other man's eyes. They were incredible like this - open, vulnerable. Their green irises shone against the white skin. And those lips... utterly inviting in their delicate pink, curled up slightly on one side... It was as if a higher power took over him as Slash closed his eyes and leaned his mouth gently onto Axl's.

Oh the softness, the sweetness. 

Axl pushed his mouth in and the kiss became harder. Axl's hands moved up over Slash's waistband to his hips. The sensation of skin on skin sent little shocks through his torso and down into his crotch. Their breathing got faster and more urgent as their hands moved up and down each other's backs, then forward to their chests, nails scratching lightly, then sharper. Slash winced at the mild pain and relished it at the same time. 

They were glued to each other fully now, groins pressing together, Slash registering with delight the tight mound at the front of Axl's pants. The chair wobbled beneath them as they leaned back.

"Bedroom?" said Slash.

Axl pulled him by the arm through a doorway somewhere. Within seconds they were collapsing onto a bed, hands everywhere, pushing off clothes. Boots thudded to the floor. Slash barely had time to notice the fluffy pink comforter beneath them. He was frantic for Axl now, clutching at the back of his head, pulling him on top of him, sucking him deeper into his mouth, their tongues sliding around each other, teeth biting lips, all awkwardness forgotten as they drank each other in.

"I want you," breathed Axl, the words triggering dizziness in Slash's head and even greater hardness in his cock. Slash reached out and slid his palm down Axl's length and up again, then circled his thumb around the tip and gently back and forth over its slit. He began pumping the other man, hearing a gasp come from his own mouth as he relished the sliding sensation of the lubrication oozing from the tip. He felt Axl's hand at his cock, grabbing him full on, and it felt so amazing to be held and stroked that he leaned his head back and groaned loudly.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he heard Axl say. Kisses came hard and fast on his throat, his collarbone, his shoulders, then moved down to his nipples. Axl's mouth was hot, wet and warm on them, sucking and biting delicately. Slash gasped again as he felt his nipple buds harden and his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in the next chapter! 
> 
> Thanks as always to you, the readers, for opening my story and reading to the end. I love hearing your comments!! 
> 
> As I said last time, if you like what you've read so far, please do leave Kudos and share with like-minded friends. Engagement with you guys - and the two guys in the story ;) - keeps me going! xxx


	14. Ruby's Place, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axl and Slash get to have their first proper 'sleepover' in an actual apartment and put it to good use!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really starting to love the character of Slash here, he's shy and nervous but his attraction to Axl keeps getting the better of him 😄That makes him vulnerable, too, and Axl can hurt him easily without realising.

Opening his eyes again, Slash realised that he had been crazy earlier, worrying about being with Axl in a proper place. He could see and move freely. The softness of the bed was incredible and made moving around so much easier than their loft. He grinned to himself.

Axl seemed to read his thoughts.

"Who knew an actual bed could be so great?" he chuckled quietly. 

"Guess we got you to thank for that," murmured Slash before mentally kicking himself for bringing up what Axl had done to get the apartment. 

Axl didn't seem to notice, or care; he was holding Slash on either side of his ribcage and moving his mouth in a downward motion over the skin. He progressed slowly down Slash's happy trail, licking and biting, then glanced up with a wicked look that sent electricity right into Slash's groin.

"What do you want?" Axl said, his eyes locked with Slash's.

Slash hesitated. He was used to telling women what they should do to him; it was pretty straightforward. But verbalising what he wanted to a man? To Axl of all people?

He wanted Axl to touch him everywhere, to push into him, to fuck him senseless, to lie and hold him afterwards, to live like that forever. He couldn't bring himself to say any of it out loud.

"Umm..." he said. "Same as last time, I guess..."

The thought crossed his mind that unlike him, Axl had had sex with someone else since they had last been together. He pushed the thought out of his mind. Not now. 

Axl's silky red hair flowed over Slash's thighs as the other man's head dipped. Then the warm tongue was on his cock, licking the tip and spreading delicious smooth wetness all over it. Slash groaned and stretched back his neck. God, how could anything be so good? The headboard of the bed came into view and the pillow bunched up around his ears as he pushed back against it, trying to deal with the pleasure he was feeling. 

Axl's tongue was working hard, sliding and licking down the shaft of his cock, his lips encircling it and moving farther and farther down. Slash shut his eyes tight as he felt himself hitting the back of Axl's throat. He felt the palms of Axl's hands grip his hips firmly. He wanted to see. He looked down. The top of Axl's head was moving up and down, alternately sucking and pushing with his lips, the thick, veined base of Slash's cock sliding in and out of view. 

"Fuuuck... don't...stop," he croaked.

He felt Axl smile around him.

" _Now_ you got instructions for me, huh?" Axl muttered before continuing his lip-and-tongue-massage, causing Slash to gasp and clutch at the sheets. He was getting close. He didn't want it to stop but he didn't want it to be over, either. He could feel the urgency building inside him.

"OK stop!" he gasped, leaning up and placing a hand on the back of Axl's neck.

Axl raised his head. The wicked smile was back. He crawled up Slash's body on his hands and knees till their faces were level again.

"Your mouth is good for more than just singing," said Slash, surprising himself.

Axl laughed. It was such a sexy laugh, throaty and dirty.

"You know I got many talents," he said. Slash could only nod, grinning. There was a pause and Slash thought, fuck it, I've started talking, might as well do it some more.

"Did you bring any lube?" he asked.

Axl nodded and leaned to pick his pants up off the floor. Slash took full advantage of the view of Axl's smooth, muscular back and curvy ass stretched out before him. Axl pulled a bottle from his pants pocket.

"Do you want to... stay underneath?" he said, glancing at Slash.

Slash nodded. He didn't know his preferences...yet... but he knew that was what he wanted right now.

Axl was spreading lube over his own cock now. Slash swallowed hard at the sight of Axl straddling him, hair hanging at each side of his face as he looked down at himself, his hands stroking his length, his cock rigid and gleaming. He squirted more of the gelatinous fluid onto the fingers of his right hand and Slash felt himself tighten with anticipation. Axl's fingers moved in a circle around his hole, slowly and gently at first, then pushed inside. He moved gently, a little farther in each time, then began scissoring and spreading the lube inside Slash liberally. Slash's knees bent up more of their own accord and he groaned.

They locked eyes again. Axl raised an eyebrow and Slash nodded, feeling a flush of happiness that they could communicate so easily.

Axl manoeuvred himself down the bed, farther down Slash's body, positioning his cock in front of Slash's hole. Then he pushed forward. Axl's eyes squeezed shut and his brow furrowed as he moved his body forward, causing Slash to feel the bulbous, smooth hardness at his entrance. The sensation was better than the last time; it was still a strong pressure but it felt more familiar this time, more welcome. Slash moved his pelvis up to meet Axl and was rewarded with a strangled-sounding moan from the other man's mouth. 

"Push against me again," breathed Axl.

Slash did so, raising and lowering his hips in a slow rhythm to match Axl's thrusts. Slash's own eyes were shut tight again, bursts of light going off inside his eyelids as intense pleasure surged through his body, making his nipples incredibly sensitive and tight. He was being invaded but it was such a fucking amazing invasion; he felt his insides stretching and giving way as Axl pushed in deeper; he wanted to be filled up. The lube was working so well. He felt little pain and what he did feel, he relished. 

Another plunge forward by Axl, a bigger movement this time, and Slash cried out. Axl was balls-deep in him now and Slash's prostate responded as if electrified to the massaging motion of the tip of Axl's dick. Axl was circling his hips slightly as he pushed in and out, creating a rubbing effect. Slash's hands flew to the sides of Axl's face and he clutched desperately, needing something to hang on to. His knees were at his ears now as he opened himself as much as he possibly could. The ecstasy was building; his own cock hung heavy and tight against his abdomen; his body began to shudder.

"Can't... hold back," came his voice hoarsely.

"Serious?" said Axl above him. The voice sounded far away. Slash was taken over with pure sensation. He felt Axl bang into him more furiously, their skin pounding together. Their moans and gasps melded into a single wave of sound. Slash pressed his chin to his chest. The pressure was ecstatic, it was unbearable. 

Sweet Jesus. Ecstatic explosions in his head, his arms, his crotch. He felt his own warm semen squirt over his belly and chest. At the same time, he was aware of an otherworldly sound coming from Axl's mouth - a tight, rasping growl - as Axl slammed into him harder than ever and held suddenly still, releasing himself. Hot liquid warmed up Slash's insides and Slash bucked his hips, helpless with pleasure. He felt a few more, shorter thrusts into his ass, then Axl's head fell forward onto his chest and they collapsed onto the mattress together. 

"Christ," said Axl into Slash's skin after a minute. "You can come from just that, without being touched?"

Slash tightened his arms around Axl's neck, pressed his lips to the top of his skull.

"Guess so," he said, breathing in the heavenly aroma of Axl's hair.

***

Slash sensed daylight. He opened his eyes a little. The sun was coming through the pink curtains. His limbs stretched out over the smooth fabric of the bedclothes, luxuriating in the comfort, before he remembered where he was.

He reached out an arm and felt... empty sheets. His heart sank. Yes, he had known Axl would probably be gone before him but the knowledge didn't ease the stab of pain it brought with it. 

He waited for the pain to subside a little. Another, more familiar, want was making itself known. He jumped from the bed and did a quick search of the kitchen. Fridge, cupboards, shelves - no. No booze anywhere.

Wandering back into the bedroom to dress, he noticed a piece of paper on Axl's side of the cover. He snatched it up, feeling like he was in a bad movie. The paper was covered in Axl's unmistakable all-capitals handwriting.

_"Have to split._

_Not good at mornings._

_See you later."_

Slash scrunched the paper into a ball and flung it in the trash basket under the vanity table. After a moment, he took it back out and folded it. He picked up his clothes from the floor, threw them on and left, slamming the apartment door after him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And thanks for coming back, if you've been here before!   
> It still feels crazy to me that real people out there are reading what I write here!   
> I love hearing from you guys so please leave me a comment, tell me what you like, any suggestions you have for what the characters should do next or plot points you think would be good!   
> hugs & love


	15. Piece of bait

"Slash, there's someone you need to meet."

The band members were sprawled in the alley after rehearsal, backs against the wall in a patch of shade cast by the late afternoon sun. It was a hot September Friday. They had discarded their t-shirts in the stifling heat of the garage; Steven and Duff were wearing theirs like turbans. Marlboro packets, lighters and beer cans lay on the ground. 

"A chick."

Slash raised his eyes behind his shades to look at Axl, expressionless.

Damn him, thought Slash. He can get to me so easily. Worse, he knows it. 

He had been simmering ever since Axl had sneaked off on him that morning. He hadn't seen him till rehearsal, by which point Slash had numbed himself sufficiently with alcohol to act cool and focus on his playing. And he couldn't get it out of his head about that girl whose apartment they had been in last night. Sure, they all slept around, all the time, but now... it bothered him that Axl had been with someone else. Even if it was just business, like Axl claimed. 

And here was Axl, sipping his beer, smoking and shooting the breeze like everything was cool. 

Even worse, he was sitting right opposite Slash. Slash couldn't stop himself glancing at the colours of Axl's hair and eyes in a shaft of sunlight. It was a cliché - red hair, green eyes - but that didn't stop it looking fucking amazing. 

"She's a booker," went on Axl, taking a swallow from his can. "And a promoter. She helped the Crüe get started. Poison, too."

Slash was grimacing at the mention of the outfit for whom, of all the current L.A. hair metal bands, he had the least respect.

"So, Denny's at eight."

Slash groaned. 

"Tonight? Look, if you think she's cool..."

Axl shook his head.

"You're the next piece of bait."

"Lemme guess, you were the first piece."

The others were starting to look up from their collective beer daze, roused by the increasingly heated exchange. Slash gave Axl a death glare. Axl appeared not to notice.

"I just made nice, hooked her. All you gotta do is help me reel her in, pretty boy." 

A needle of anxiety pricked Slash's heart. Axl wasn't being careful enough with what he said in front of the other guys. He fixed his eyes in the opposite direction. 

"She better be paying," he said.

Axl smiled.

***

Denny's was more crowded than usual, it being a Friday night. The din—orders being hollered, painful fake music pumping from the fake retro juke boxes—hit Slash in the face as he followed Axl through the double doors. 

His stomach growled in response to the aroma of starch cooked in hot oil. He hadn't eaten all day. Maybe this wouldn't be such a drag. As long as he didn't have to put up with Axl and this Vicky person playing footsie for the next hour, he'd be cool.

"Slash, this is Vicky Hamilton."

They had stopped at one of the booths and his hand was being shaken. A blonde; tall and large-chested, Slash noted with approval. Axl was kissing her ass as they slid into the banquette, going on about how she was the best promoter on the Strip, how she'd done wonders for Mötley Crüe and Poison, how grateful they were that she'd agreed to meet them again. 

For her part, Vicky wasn't saying much; she was taking them in, sizing them up.

Axl was right about her was paying, though. 

"Order whatever you want, guys," she said, gesturing to the laminated menus. 

Expense account. Fuckin' A, thought Slash. He ordered the double cheeseburger, large fries and Coke. Axl was the same kind of animal; he placed a similarly large order. Vicky smiled.

"So look," she said, turning to Slash after the server left. "Axl played me your demo tape. I'm not gonna fuck around. I wanna represent you."

As the evening went on, they moved on to the Rainbow and Vicky's credit card was behind the bar. Slash had to hand it to Axl; he was gradually convincing her to work for them for free. Only at first, of course. Once they got signed—which they certainly would, the demo tape spoke for itself—she would be in line for a chunk of their signing fee, and ten per cent of their earnings once the album started selling. 

Slash knew the hustle. He batted his eyelashes, threw compliments Vicky's way and laughed at her anecdotes from the Sunset Strip rock music world. Slash knew what women wanted from him: the possibility that he might, at some point, if the circumstances were right, sleep with them—of course, only if they wanted it.

They just always seemed to want it.

***

In the early hours of the morning, they turned back into Sunset from Clark Street after seeing Vicky to the gate of her apartment block. Having talked all night, Axl, elated from the success of their mission, was still nattering away, not seeming to require much response. 

Irritation flared up in Slash. They had achieved their aim hours ago—to get Vicky in the bag—and since then he had just wanted to get out of there. But when Axl was immersed in conversation like that there was no stopping him. Slash had contemplated just going home but the drinks had kept arriving, one after the other. Now he was drunk, tired and pissed off.

Eventually, Axl halted his chatter and cast a sidelong look at Slash.

"You got pretty quiet," he said. "You OK?"

"Sure," fired back Slash, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walked. Pools of light from the streetlights illuminated trash bags, prone figures on benches, dark splashes of piss, some vomit, and who knew what else. 

"Sure you're sure?" said Axl. "Seems to me like you're pissed at something."

Anger crept up Slash's throat and he cursed himself. He was going to do it again: whine like a bitch.

"Oh I dunno," he said. "You disappear this morning, don't talk to me all day, 'cept when you want me to do something... Yeah, I guess I'm pissed."

He heard a slow intake of breath. 

"Oh... that," said Axl. 

In his peripheral vision, Slash saw Axl looking at him properly now, but he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. 

"C'mon, Slash," said Axl, trying to catch his eye. "You know me... I'm a dick like that, things get on top of me and I just gotta... leave."

Despite the hour, it was still Sunset Boulevard; there were people around, and Axl's voice carried. Slash hunched up his shoulders further, shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Sure. What the fuck do I care."

"Hey." Now Axl had stopped and grabbed Slash's arm. "Look, you want me to say sorry? I'm sorry. There. That do?"

Slash wrenched back his arm, glancing around for fear they were attracting attention. He started walking again, faster. 

To his horror, Axl's voice called out behind him.

"So it's gotta be your way, huh? You get to decide when you want me and when you don't?"


	16. Under the street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The backdrop changes from indoor to outdoor as Slash and Axl argue in the street. But they don't stay angry for long...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows on from the last one - another two-parter - I don't know why, the story just seemed to require it! Hope you enjoy it!

Within seconds Slash was back in front of Axl, his jaw tight with rage. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed the front of Axl's jacket in both hands and dragged him into the nearest dark alcove off the street. He shoved him against the wall, knocking over a pile of cardboard boxes.

"Motherfucker," Slash hissed into Axl's face. "What the fuck you think you're doing, yelling at me in the middle of the fucking street?"

Axl shrugged but his eyes were wide. Slash realised the look in his face was fear. 

Slash gave the other man another shove and let go. His eyes were burning with tiredness, and something more: the all-powerful weariness he sometimes felt at the sheer fucking difficulty of things.

He looked up at the dark sky and pulled his hands down his face.

"Hey, man," he heard Axl say, his voice soft. Slash didn't respond.

Then a hand was on his shoulder - tentative, not rough.

This was it. This was the perfect moment to push Axl away, tell him to fuck off, and for Slash to go home - home, to his basement room in his grandmother's house, where he could be alone, gather his thoughts, and make the only rational decision: put an end to this thing before it destroyed their band, their careers and their friendship.

But he couldn't use the moment because there it was again, taking over his rational brain: the magnetism that drew him to Axl, the pull that drew their bodies together, the all-consuming attraction that made him wrap his arms around the other man and bury his face in his shoulder.

"Fuck, man," whispered Axl, his hands at the back of Slash's head, his mouth beside Slash's ear.

Their cheeks brushed off each other, stubble scratching, and their mouths met in the sweetest, most yearning kiss that Slash had ever experienced. He drank Axl in as their lips pushed against each other and their tongues entwined. Slash's anxiety had evaporated. All he cared about in this moment was touching Axl, absorbing him.

After an unknown amount of time their mouths broke apart. 

"Man, I thought you were gonna kick the shit out of me," said Axl quietly, still pinned between Slash and the wall, his forehead pressed to Slash's. They were both panting. "You're pretty fucking sexy when you're angry."

It was the closest Axl had ever come to telling him he had feelings for him. Slash's chest filled with warmth at the words. Something released in him; buried emotion burst through to the surface. 

"I was going fucking crazy today, man," he muttered back. "Last night was... so... it was so fucking ... good. Then I don't see you all day and you looked so goddamn hot in the alley and then I had to watch you kiss up to Vicky all night... "

Axl caressed his cheek against Slash's and pulled him even closer.

"Woah. I didn't know you had these feelings, man. I thought... y'know, what we're doing... I thought for you it was just ...y'know... fucking."

It was dark where they were, tucked away in a gap between two stores. The noise from the street sounded far away. Slash rested his forehead on Axl's shoulder.

"I didn't give a shit about feelings till I ... till you... we..." 

He felt Axl's hands push him back gently and seek out eye contact.

"Till we... what?"

Slash shook his head and looked away.

"I don't have the words."

There was a pause. Axl reached out and turned Slash's face to his own again.

"How do you feel about me?" he demanded.

Slash snorted. 

"C'mon, man, I can't..."

"Tell me."

Something about Axl's tone - commanding, yet beseeching - broke further through Slash's defences.

"I've been trying to make it go away. After that time in my grandma's ..."

"You mean that time we kissed in her basement?"

"Yeah. We talked about it then, remember? We said it was a drunken mistake. And I've tried to stick to that, I really have."

Axl's eyes were still locked on Slash's. "But?"

Slash shook his head. "It's no fucking use. I - really - have strong - feelings for you."

He had never felt so vulnerable in his life. He had presented his heart on a platter and now, could only pray that Axl wouldn't crush it.

Axl dropped his head and stared at the ground. When he lifted his head again, he was smiling.

"That's the best goddamn piece of news I've heard in a long time," he said. He pulled Slash's mouth to his and kissed him deeply. Then he pulled back, keeping his hands on either side of Slash's face, and looked deep into his eyes.

"I can't stop thinking about you. I don't know how to deal with that. I can't talk to you at rehearsal. I'd - I dunno - I'd have a hard time keeping my hands off you. I gotta concentrate on the band, the music."

Delight filled Slash's belly. 

"Me too, goddammit," he said. "I'm so fucking scared the others will notice me staring at you. I just keep my eyes down and try to not fuck up my playing." 

Then they were kissing again, fingers in each other's hair. Slash felt Axl grip a clump of his hair and he followed the pull, leaning back his head in pleasure and hearing a low groan come from his own mouth. Axl gasped at the sight of Slash's face in the shadows, those incredible full lips parted, black curls cascading around the face.

"We gotta get off the street," said Slash hoarsely. 

"We can't go back to the garage," said Axl. 

"What do you mean?"

"Duff. He said it earlier. His girl kicked him out. He's staying with us till he finds somewhere else."

"Fuck." Slash's heart sank. 

Axl was poking around the dark alcove, looking into corners.

"C'mere," he said, gesturing to Slash. "There's more space back here. It's totally dark."

Slash shook his head slowly.

"Oh, no, no," he said. "No way. Not right next to the fucking street."

Axl was grinning, like he was squaring up to a challenge. He grabbed Slash's hand.

"Don't be such a worrier. It'll be fine, look." Axl was pulling him away from the sidewalk, farther into the gloom away from the street lights. He was right; there was a narrow free space concealed behind the piles of trash, in front of a padlocked metal gate. 

"Fuuuck me," cursed Slash, surrendering all caution and following.

"I intend to," replied Axl, pushing him against the wall and plunging a hand into the waistband of Slash's jeans. Axl's hand was around his cock in seconds. Slash groaned again.

"Shhh," grinned Axl into Slash's neck, licking the taut skin and nipping it with his teeth.

The bare brick of the wall grazed Slash's knuckles as his hands flailed about for something to grab onto. Axl's hand felt so warm, so good as it moved up and down his cock. The other man's body was pressed right up against his, his lips on Slash's neck and collarbones, whispering sexily, "You're so fucking hard for me."

Slash bit his lips tightly together. 

"I wanna hear you say it."

Slash swore through his teeth.

"I'm so fucking hard for you, Axl," he hissed. 

Axl moaned quietly. The hand on Slash's cock moved faster. Desire and urgency were building in him, tightening his nipples, his abdomen, and sending the most amazing sensations into his crotch.

He felt the hand let go. There was pulling at Slash's fly and his waistband was being yanked down a little. 

"I gotta have you in my mouth."

"Fuck, Axl," Slash whispered. "I don't think I can do this here..."

He heard how weak his voice sounded, heard his pleading tone contradict his words. Axl chuckled and dropped to his knees.

Oh sweet fucking Jesus.

He felt the divine, wet warmth of mouth on his tip, then Axl's hot, sweet tongue glided around it, teasing the slit by sliding across it gently. Slash pushed his hands into Axl's hair, feeling the other man's head move down his length, lips over teeth, pulling slowly down, down, till he reached the base and Slash's cock pushed against soft, wet throat. Slash's eyes rolled back in his head. Hard stone jabbed at the back of his skull as he pressed his head against the wall in pleasure.

Axl was breathing hard through his nose. He was sucking now, sliding up and down with increasing intensity. Slash felt heat move through his groin and knew he was close. He still couldn't believe they were doing this, here, but his need was too great to stop.

"Ax," he pleaded, stroking the silky hair. "I'm close... please..." 

Axl's fingernails dug deeper into the skin at Slash's hips where he was holding him. Slash felt him smile around his cock. The next suck was stronger, and the next. With each drag of suction on his cock, Slash felt control slipping away from him. Sensations and words mingled crazily in his brain ... he almost sobbed with desire for release... Finally, ecstasy surged through him and he emptied himself into Axl's mouth in one ejaculation after another, his hands involuntarily pulling Axl's head even farther onto him. 

His cock was squeezed as Axl swallowed. Slash looked down, gasping, loosening his grip on Axl's head. Axl pushed himself to standing and the sides of their faces met again, stroking sweetly, softly, their hands caressing each other's arms.

"Beautiful... so beautiful..." Axl was whispering. He wrapped his arms around Slash's shoulders and hugged him tightly. Slash buttoned up his jeans and returned the embrace, hoping it expressed what he couldn't find words for.

They slowly came to, remembering where they were. They looked towards the street. Everything was going on as normal. 

"Let's go home and tuck ourselves up with Duff, eh?" muttered Axl with a wry smile as they let go of each other.

"That lanky bastard gets the floor," replied Slash. They both chuckled.

He realised with a wrench that they couldn't touch any more now, couldn't hold hands or put an arm around each other on the way home. 

They started moving away from the wall, then Slash felt his head grabbed between two strong hands and lips moving against his own.

"We gotta get somewhere we can be together," said Axl through gritted teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading!!  
> This part came together really quickly, I love when that happens! I loved writing it, with the change of setting from indoor to outdoor (!)... Hope you enjoyed it too!   
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments, and please do leave kudos if you haven't already. AO3 has a system where you can only leave kudos on a story once, not multiple times for different chapters. So it's harder for the writer to know what exactly people enjoy.  
> So comments are really important and welcome!  
> I'm also on Instagram by the way, as ifyougotthemoneyhoney.   
> I post pictures and videos of rock bands that I like (not ALL of GNR 😝) and also chapter updates.  
> Come follow me there too!


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